


Coincidence

by FandomsMadeMe



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Anxiety, Bonding, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, College, Deaf Clint Barton, Everyone Have Their Own Demons, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Humor, I Swear There's A Ton, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Past Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Slow Build, Some angst, Sort Of, Steve Cooks, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Strangers, Tags Are Continuously Growing, Team Bonding, Tenants/Borders, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Trust Issues, i don't really know how to tag, i think, in the later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-06-10 07:45:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 47,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15286974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomsMadeMe/pseuds/FandomsMadeMe
Summary: “Mind giving me the rules around here?” He asked glancing around. “I don’t actually have enough experience living with a lot of people”Considering that the only person I see at home is Jarvis. “Like, do we have a bathroom schedule or something?”Bruce visibly gnawed at the inside of his cheek which led Tony to raise an eyebrow—he really needs to stop that habit. “I haven’t actually met the others yet.”Tony waited for more explanation. “Yeah, sure that explained a whole lot,” he said when Bruce said nothing.“I dunno, it’s just, I know they’re here, it’s just that I don’t see them a lot.”“You just raised a whole lot of questions.”***Six strangers, one place.Maybe it's just a coincidence they all have their own demons.





	1. Building A

**Author's Note:**

> I know that College AU isn't something most people go gaga. But this story just fell on my head and I can't seem to get it out. So instead, I wrote it down.

A long time ago—maybe not that long—a few decades perhaps, a weird house was built near the intersection down the road, a few blocks away from the SHEILD University. It wasn’t technically a house per say, in fact it looks nowhere near a house, more like a heap of concrete with two stories.

It was one of those complex where you easily forget, like how you see every person crossing the road, only to forget them the moment you look away. No one really knew what it should look like, all they know is that the building was forced to finish on short notice. Which led to its final product: looking like a weird structure.

It used to have a name plastered on the front of it, either the owner was too lazy or just plain cheap, because through time the letters disappeared—mainly because the place was a close friend of any visiting rainstorms that loves to take a souvenir, and the only thing that’s left was the letter A. The place became known as Building A.

Even the owner calls it Building A.

A young man stared at the said building, a slight pinch of disgust plastered on his face. The façade was covered with posters, a few graffiti here and there, and he swore something—or someone, was looking at him through one of the windows. The place may look okay for others but not to him, or maybe he’s just pissed at something else. “She’s something else, isn’t she?” The owner said, a man in his late 40s who only acquired the building because the original owner—which was a relative he wasn’t even aware off, died way too early.

The young man’s face scrunched. Giving your car, or any robots—especially robots, a gender is acceptable. A building, not so much, to him that’s just borderline weird. “Are we getting on with the tour or not?” The man asked instead, running a hand through his brunette hair.

Either he didn’t notice the glare that the older man gave him, or that he did notice it but couldn’t care less, he took his sunglasses off as the older man unlocked the front door.

The first floor contained a fridge and a kitchenette by the far corner, next to it was another door. Near the kitchenette was a long dining table, the young man couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the owner. Was he expecting the tenants to eat together like a freaking family or something?

The young man noted that he better have a big room where he could fit his own dining table.

At the other corner could possibly be the living room, considering that there were a TV and a few couches. The young man didn’t bother to stop himself from raising both his eyebrows this time. There was an empty shelf near the stairs, which looked quite out of place if he was being honest.

“What exactly is this place?” The man asked. “Is this a dorm or something? Because I don’t think this is an apartment or a boarding house.”

The older man winced, “I honestly have no idea,” he said. “I just inherited this place, and no one wanted to buy it from me so I used it instead.”

The young man frowned. “And yet you’re making people pay you to live in this weird place,” The older man winced again. “Grade A marketing by the way." “It’s the reason why I was only looking for college students,” he said as the brunette opened the door near the kitchenette. “I like to think that this place’s a mix of a boarding house, an apartment, and a dorm.”

Poking his head inside, the brunette found out that it was the bathroom. So no individual bathrooms, great. He thought grimly. It consists of a toilet, six bathroom stalls, and two sinks. His eyebrows practically disappeared, hiding somewhere near his hairline. 

If he was going to write a list of reasons why he shouldn’t spend his college life here, he’d be on the second page at this point. Also, seriously? One toilet? And no privacy whatsoever?

“So high school bathrooms slash grandma’s open toilet,” The man said. “Well, you discover something new every day.”

“If you like, we can proceed to the bedrooms?” The owner asked hopefully, gesturing towards the stairs.

Running a hand through his hair, the young man shrugged and followed the owner towards the second floor. This time, it consists of nothing but a very long corridor with three doors on each side. The bedrooms, the man concluded.

“Yours are at the end of the left wall, the others already moved in their stuff so you can’t reall—” The young man turned sharply and raised a brow—he’s been doing that a lot now that he noticed. “What makes you think I’m taking the room?”

The owner looked at him confused, “You uh, already paid for the whole year.”

The young man’s eyes grew twice from its normal size. “I did what?”

“You paid for the—oh okay just tell me if you’re done,” He said as the other man whipped up his phone and proceeded to call someone. The owner massaged his temples and sighed, “Millennials.” Then he studied the young man again, “Celebrities,” he sighed again.

As soon as the person at the other end of the call picked up, the man wasted no time. “Pepper what the hell!” he hissed.

_“Hello to you too Tony, I’m doing fine by the way.”_

“Oh cut it out Pep,” He snapped, “Did you know about this?”

_“About what?”_

“Pep,” Tony warned.

There was a pause, _“It was my idea.”_

Tony could practically see her wearing that shit-eating grin he’s all too aware of. “Why the hell would you do that? Pep, I don’t like this place and I’m sure there’s a ghost living in one of the rooms. There’s no way in hell would I be staying here, I told you I’ll give it a chance—hence the tour. But this place sucks, if I end up getting possessed, I’m blaming this on you.” 

There was a long pause. _“Are you done now?”_ she asked. _“Tony as your ex, and future CEO of your company—”_

“What makes you think I’m making you CEO once I graduate?”

_“—I made it a decision to help you how to learn to live as a normal human being. And you’re not going to accomplish that when you live in a house with a workshop I know you’ll definitely have.”_

“I can’t see the connection with living in this dump and actually living in a livable place,” Tony said, opening his ‘room’, only to deflate when it was as narrow as Judy Hop’s apartment. 

_“Tony, are we really doing this again?”_

Tony sighed glared at the only furniture in the room, a dusty moth-eaten twin bed.

Anthony Edward Stark is a genius, everyone knows that.

He’s one of the greatest minds, built his own circuit board when he was four, graduated MIT when he was seventeen, the only heir to Stark Industries, and probably the most egotistical jerk to walk the planet. No human at his age had reached his accomplishments and yet here he was, going back to college when he already got himself a Ph.D.  
And all because of that simple thing he wished stayed hidden.

It was never supposed to get out, it was supposed to be a secret, but thanks to the news, tabloids, and the paparazzi, things turned for the worse. Howard called it a punishment, Tony called it a way to make it seem like he’s not his son.

It pissed him off, and not even the company of Jarvis would help his mood. But he took his ‘punishment’ like it was nothing, packed his bags and enrolled in SHIELD University. It was where Pepper was learning and it seemed like a good idea staying close to her, he just wasn’t expecting for her to meddle in. Then again, all her decisions have always saved his ass.

… Also, he did asked for her help.

“Just because the damn university doesn’t require first years to live in the campus means I don’t have to, it doesn’t make sense why you’re sending me in this dump when there are perfectly good rooms in the campus dorms,” Tony complained. “I should know because I checked your dorm once—cute roommate by the way.”

_“That place is cheaper.”_

Tony raised one of his eyebrows again. “Yeah, sure that explains a lot.”

_“Really? Sarcasm? Aren’t you supposed to be ‘making your way towards maturity?’”_

“I will when you give me a real explanation why you’re letting me live in this, this, this—god Pepper, I don’t even know what this is! Is it a dorm? A house? Jesus.” Tony peeked out the door and glanced the owner, only to see him playing on his phone.

_“Tony, you’re smart. Don’t make me explain when you already know the answer.”_

There was another long pause as Tony realized what he had just gotten himself into “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

 _“I’m not,”_ Pepper simply answered. _“Also, Jarvis informed me that you won’t be able to use your credit cards anymore. From now on you’ll be receiving allowances.”_

Tony slammed his head on the wall, ignoring the startled yelp from the owner. “Tell me this is not one of your stupid ideas, please. This is a whole new level of betrayal.”

_“You’re lucky Jarvis listens to me, if Howard had his way, you’ll be living in a matchbox.”_

Tony opened his mouth only bite his tongue, he had almost mentioned his mother, which was the last thing he needs at the moment.

_“Look at the bright side, for once we’re finally on the same grade.”_

“Pep, this is not elementary school anymore.”

* * *

“He could have at least given me a van, or a car, but noooo. What an asshole,” Tony grunted as he unloaded his stuff from the U-Haul truck he rented— well, Pepper rented. “Or at least movers, maybe at least one from his thousands of workers, but nooo. I have to carry all of this by my fucking self.”

Tony glared at the mountain of boxes he placed on the side of the truck and glared at the other boxes still inside the truck. It wasn’t the fact that he had a lot of stuff—the boxes barely contained any of his clothes, it’s just that most of them just contained his tools and ‘creations from hell’ (Pepper’s words). If possible, he’ll box Dum-E up in a heartbeat.

He would have called and asked Rhodey for help, but the guy was too busy off helping with the military. _Note to self: befriend people of the same age._

“Hey Pep, how about a little hand? No Tony, I already found you a U-Haul. As if I can’t rent a freaking U-Haul for Christ sake! It’ll help you mature, she said. In what part of the universe will you mature in moving your—”

“Need help?”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Tony exclaimed, losing grip on one of the boxes he was holding sending it crashing with a loud thud on the ground, narrowly missing his left foot.  
Tony turned to where the voice had come from and saw a man standing beside the mountain of boxes. He was a few inches taller than Tony, which soured his mood even more—everyone just seemed to be taller than him, he was wearing a pair of oval-shaped glasses, a purple shirt that for some reasons works on him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” He said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Tony stared at him, enough for the other man to feel awkward. He scanned the area, and when he realized that the man was really just giving him some assistance—not an undercover reporter or something, he realized he doesn’t have a clue who he was. Granted, his fame isn’t really Kim Kardashian level, people barely even know if Bill gates even had a child. 

“Yeah, sure,” Tony shrugged, the guy may not know he’s a Stark and probably owns at least one gadget with his name on it, he might as well just take the offer. “Help me move this big one then.”

He pointed at the biggest box in the truck, it contained his bed, considering that the given bed in his room was pathetic. The man strolled beside Tony and visibly paled when he saw the size of the thing they were supposed to move. 

Something tells him the man did not think this through.

“You can back out if you want,” Tony said.

“Uh,” The man rubbed the back of his neck again. “Yeah, but…”

In the end, he didn’t back out, which was all Tony needed to know what kind of person he was. The guy's gonna get eaten alive out here.

Tony stared at their hard work and wondered if he could persuade Pepper to buy him an apartment instead—it’s not that late to change minds right? He could barely drop a needle in the room without hitting anything. 

Tony turned towards the unnamed man collapsed on the wall beside him. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought the guy took a shower with his clothes on. But it’s not like he was one to talk, Tony was absolutely sure his white tee’s basically see-through from the amount of sweat he produced.

_I am so out of shape._

The guy took another loud intake of breath.

_Well, I’m not the only one._

Tony turned towards the guy and concluded that he looked worse than him. “Something tells me you don’t do this kind of stuff.”

The man turned to look at Tony and huffed out a laugh, “I actually hate this part when moving.”

Tony used his shirt to wipe off the sweat from his face before sitting down across the man. “Which totally explains why you decided to help me,” Tony said. “Not that I’m complaining.”

The man huffed out another laugh, “I just remembered how I had a hard time moving my stuff here, so I thought why not.”

They haven’t had the chance to talk since most of the time they were too busy grunting and catching their breath, and sending a few boxes crashing down the stairs—Tony’s doing. But now that they were done, Tony realized a random passer-by wouldn’t just lend him a hand. That only happens in movies.

 _Unless this guy’s just too nice_ —which was Tony’s first assumption. Hence the getting eaten alive part.

“I’m Bruce,” he held out his hand.

“Tony,” they shook hands, “So, a college student in SHIELD?”

The guy nodded.

“Mind giving me the rules around here?” He asked glancing around. “I don’t actually have enough experience living with a lot of people” _Considering that the only person I see at home is Jarvis_. “Like, do we have a bathroom schedule or something?”

Bruce visibly gnawed at the inside of his cheek which led Tony to raise an eyebrow—he really needs to stop that habit. “I haven’t actually met the others yet.”

Tony waited for more explanation. “Yeah, sure that explained a whole lot,” he said when Bruce said nothing.

Bruce rubbed the back of his neck, seems like Tony’s not the only one with a habit. “I dunno, it’s just, I know they’re here, it’s just that I don’t see them a lot.”

Tony just stared at him, “You just raised a whole lot of questions.”

Bruce sighed. “Trust me, I had more when I moved here,” He said. “I kept waiting for one of them to show up, and for a while, I thought I was alone. Then I actually saw one of them leaving their room—she ignored me by the way. Then I realized that the fridge always had something inside with a sticky note that has the name Clint on it. So yeah, you’re actually the first person I had a decent conversation around here.”

Tony found himself unable to say anything but a small “Huh.” He glanced around again, “you think they’re here? Should I put the Ghost Busters on speed dial?”

Bruce chuckled before standing up “I don’t think that’s necessary, besides, I don’t really care anymore. I mean with you here, there’s only four of us, who knows maybe the next two won’t be much of a ghost.” He patted his hands down his jeans, “Anyway, you should probably unpack. Welcome to building A by the way.”

Tony watched him walk down the hall until he disappeared into his room. As soon as he was out of his sight, Tony whipped out his phone and contacted Pepper. She picked up on the first ring.

_“What now?”_

“I told you there are ghosts here. And there’s two of ‘em,” He hissed. “I can’t stay here Pep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no current pairings because I'm still deciding what pairing I should choose, I would like the story to progress a little more before deciding.
> 
> Anyway, I know the first part doesn't really hold any plot-and so does the next few chapters, but that doesn't mean this story would suck. The plot would probably start after a few chapters.
> 
> I promise, give this story a chance because I have never been this excited whenever I thought of a story.


	2. The Tenants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce realized that it's not that bad

Finally finished with his own set of boxed belongings—which took a whole month much to Bruce’s dismay, a new person finally moved in. Not that Tony’s like the other two tenants, it’s just that he’s almost as much of a hermit as the other two.

After staying for almost a month with ghost-like companies and just a week of having Tony as a sign of any living organism—and Tony’s suspicious carton of milk that always seemed to be empty ( _“I swear I didn’t touch anything in that fridge, I barely bring food here.”_ Bruce said the fifth time Tony asked him about his milk carton), Bruce found himself quite giddy with the prospect of having another human being joining their…complex? Apartment? Dorm? Whatever.

It’s not like he’s bored and looking for company, but it had been weird coming back only to see the place feeling empty and very unwelcoming. Most of the time Bruce spends his days in his room, unpacking or, when Tony finally moved in, asking him to keep his tinkering to a minimum.

He couldn’t really say that he and Tony were in friendly terms, more like if-I-see-you-then-I-see-you-but-we-don’t-talk-like-we’re-friends kind of relationship. They barely see each other, but it was still something. Unlike the other two, who were starting to look like real ghosts, at least he could still see Tony.

Then again, he just saw the red-haired girl yesterday morning. He woke up in an ungodly hour with an angry bladder and he saw her leaving the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel. She didn’t even acknowledge him, but Bruce was too busy holding it in to bother.

It was when he had gone back to bed did he realized that he technically saw her naked.

It was nearly five in the afternoon and Tony, having emerged from his room after unboxing most of his tools, made a beeline towards the kitchenette to make his afternoon breakfast (one toast and a mug of coffee). He found Bruce at the dining table drinking Oolong tea ( _“Are you even aware of coffee?”_ Tony asked one morning).

Tony had just sat down next to him when the front door opened. 

Both heads snapped up towards the entrance to see a tall well-built blonde male standing by the doorway, holding what could possibly be the heaviest looking box Bruce saw in his entire life. Strangely, something about this guy just screams ‘All Hail America’. 

“I swear to god I quit drugs months ago, ask Pepper,” was the words that instantly slipped out from Tony’s mouth, much to Bruce’s confusion. 

Bruce had half a mind to ask Tony if he was serious, but he found himself staring at Tony then back at the stranger, then back again at Tony, then back at the stranger, before raising both of his arms, as if surrendering. He doesn’t know if Policemen usually barge in carrying heavy boxes, but he’s not asking. “I promise you, I barely know him.” 

There was an awkward moment of silence between the three of them, until the uninvited guest frowned and oddly enough, he stepped out of the door and stared at the building before returning back inside, as if making sure he’s at the right place. 

“This is, uh, Building A right?” He asked. 

Bruce blinked as he put his arms down and Tony made a noise that sounded like realization. “Yeah, yeah this is building A.” He said rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I’m Bruce, this is Tony.” He added introducing Tony with a jerked of his head. “I’m guessing you’re one of the tenants?” 

He nodded. “I’m Rogers—I mean Steve, Steve Rogers.” 

Tony snorted. “Can I call you Captain?” Both guys just stared at him, confused. There was another moment of silence before Tony furrowed his eyebrows. “Rogers,” He said as if it explained everything. “You know, ‘roger that captain’.” When no one laughed, Tony frowned. “It’s like I’m living with new-borns.” 

“No, I get it,” Steve said walking towards them. “Just that, I heard that a lot to last a lifetime.” He added setting down the box he was carrying on the dining table. “Are you two the only—" 

“No there’s four of us, five, now that you’re here,” Tony replied while taking a huge bite from his toast. “A redhead lady and a guy named Clint." 

Steve stared at Bruce, reassuring if what Tony said was true. “What he said,” he replied taking a sip of his tea. 

“So when will I meet them?” Steve asked leaning one arm on his box. 

“You don’t,” Tony said who took another bite from his toast, Steve raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t met any of them yet, though Bruce here’s lucky enough to see lady red tw—” 

As if on cue, a red-headed girl walked down from the stairs wearing a black tank top, ripped jeans and a baseball cap. She didn’t acknowledge any of them or even spared them a glance. She just went down the stairs and out towards the door as if three pairs of eyes weren't staring at her. 

“And I doubt there’ll be a hot girl about to enter through that door!” Tony exclaimed while pointing at the entrance with too much exaggeration. 

It was his turn to ignore two pairs of eyes staring at him. 

"Testing a theory,” He explained. 

“I guess you should remove Ghost Busters out of your speed dial,” Bruce told Tony while continuing to sip from his tea. 

Tony muttered something that sounded exactly like “still haven’t met the other one,” before downing his cup of coffee in one gulp. 

The conversation immediately ended, not that Bruce was surprised, it happens every time. When it became apparent that the atmosphere was getting awkward, Bruce did the only thing he could think off. 

“So, need any help?” He asked gesturing at the box on the table. 

Tony shot up from his seat and left muttering the words “Not doing this again.” 

* * *

Surprisingly, all of Steve’s belongings were in that one box. For a big guy, he barely owns anything, contradicting Tony’s mountain of belongings. 

A few days passed and Bruce was starting to wonder if the place was jinxed, or if the gods had cursed this building and banned any form of socializing. The other two tenants were ghosts (Tony’s words), and Tony, on the other hand, would always shut himself inside his room creating loud noises that would put mechanics to shame—and also the cause of Bruce waking up at two in the morning and threatening Tony that if he doesn’t keep it down he’ll throw away his stash of coffee. 

And as stupid as it sounds, Bruce thinks that Tony’s a vampire, either that or Tony have a very strange sleep and eating pattern. 

Meanwhile, the new tenant isn’t so bad. Steve doesn’t shut himself in his room 24/7, but he does spend a lot of time _outside_. And the longer he stayed, Bruce, noticed that the guy follows a tight schedule. It’s like his whole life is a routine: wake up, jog, exercise, take a bath, go out, return, eat, and sleep. And he did every one of it at a certain time, never missing a minute. 

Bruce wondered if living with a vampire, two ghosts, and a robot is a good thing to tell his children someday. 

And because of Steve’s unbelievable schedule, Bruce found himself unable to start a conversation with him. 

Ok, no, actually, he’d rather not talk to him. 

And no, it’s not because of Steve’s ridiculous clockwork habit, it’s because of Steve’s strange presence. Bruce couldn’t actually pinpoint it very well, but the way Steve stood, walk, talk—or just the way he held himself, something in him just screams, well, America. It’s like every time he’s in the room, Bruce found himself wanting to sing the national anthem or salute like a military soldier. 

And Bruce does not like the military. 

Whenever Steve shows up near Bruce, he would slowly retreat back towards his room and spend the rest of the day until Steve retreats back to his own room. 

It’s not that he’s scared, it’s just the fact that it feels weird around him. 

Sometimes he found himself wanting to ask Tony if he’s the only one feeling weird around Steve, but Tony follows his own ridiculous schedule—which Bruce couldn’t follow for the life of him. He could probably count in one hand how many conversations he had with Tony. 

It’s three by the way, including the time he helped him move his stuff. 

Even though five of them already lives there, it still feels like one. 

It keeps reminding him that he’s all alone, and it also keeps reminding him that it’s his fault he can’t really run back to anyone. And he hated it, he moved and left everything behind to forget, but the memory just keeps coming back. 

Then the sixth tenant came. 

Bruce woke up at the crack of dawn, he was sure even Tony was conked out, and made a beeline towards the bathroom. His barefoot padded across the cold tiled floor, only to stop when he heard the distinct sound of someone eating. He froze. 

Even without his glasses, Bruce can still see pretty well, just not in the dark. He squinted at the large clump of darkness sitting on the dining table. He should be panicking, but he was practically half asleep, leaving him blinking at whatever it is he was looking at. 

When it started to move, Bruce snapped up. Suddenly Tony’s claim of ghosts living in the building seemed pretty convincing now. 

Taking a few calculating steps backward, Bruce cautiously grabbed a book from the shelf—none of it was his, leaving him to believe that Tony owned way too much, and slowly made his way towards the unidentified organism. Then again, it could probably be a cat burglar—not that that sounded better. 

With as much strength a half awake person could muster, he swung the book and hit the stranger square on the head. 

Bruce blinked when the stranger just turned to look at him unfazed—though the dark surroundings weren’t helping. 

“Well that didn’t work,” Bruce muttered backing up as the stranger stood up, only to find that whoever this is was way bigger than Steve, and Steve was already huge. 

Bruce was ready to run and lock himself in his room, so what if the T.V. went missing, Steve’s the only one who uses it anyway. 

"Is that some form of greeting here?” 

Bruce blinked. 

_What?_

The stranger shuffled and flipped a switch on the wall, bright lights almost blinded Bruce that left him squinting. The first thing he saw was the number of pop tart wrappers littered by the toaster, then at the mountain of pop tarts on the dining table. 

Blinking again, Bruce looked up and was face to face with the biggest man he’d ever seen, other than wrestlers in WWE— _those guys are humongous_. His long blond hair was tied back in a man bun, and his sense of style rivals a ten-year-old. 

“Shall I too hit you with a book?” The man asked, his voice loud and booming. It was a miracle no one heard him. 

It took a few seconds for Bruce to realize that the guy was serious. “Um, what? No, I— sorry but, do you actually speak like that?” 

The guy blinked. “I beg your pardon?" 

Bruce rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—I thought you were a burglar,” he frowned then saw the mountain of boxes—though it was still a lot less than Tonys', sitting on the living room floor. “Are you the sixth tenant?” Bruce asked pointing at the stairs 

The guy seemed confused at first before following Bruce’s hand pointing at the stairs. “Ah, indeed, I have taken a room in this facility.” 

“Oh, okay, wow. Um—” Bruce continued to scratch the back of his neck. “So sorry about, the hitting you part, by the way, also don’t do that, we don’t use that as a greeting here.” 

"I see,” The man nodded. 

Bruce’s frown went back to his face, “But seriously, do you really talk like that? It’s the 21st century.” 

The man shrugged, “My brother has forewarned me about it, but as individuals say, habits die hard.” 

_Or you’re just plain weird._

Bruce doesn’t usually jump to conclusion, but what normal person would move and eat an ungodly amount of pop tarts at the break of dawn. 

“I’m Bruce, I also live here.” He said about to raise his hand for a shake but decided not to. The guy could probably crush his fingers in one go. 

“I’m Thor,” Bruce raised both of his eyebrows. Thor sighed. “I believe my parents were intoxicated when they named me and my brother.” 

“Right,” Bruce said, suddenly wanting to go back to bed, only to remember why he got up in the first place. “I’m just gonna go pee now.” 

That same morning, Bruce walked down the stairs and saw an empty living room, it’s like the guy was never there. 

Bruce wondered if he was just dreaming, but the moment his eyes landed on the mountain of pop tart boxes on the counter with a sticky note that says ‘THOR’—something tells him Thor got it from the numerous amount of sticky notes with the name Clint and Tony plastered on every food inside the fridge, he realized he wasn’t. 

Shrugging, Bruce made himself some tea and decided to stop by a hotdog stand before going to class. It’s the first day and he’s not looking forward to being late. 

Glancing around, Bruce frowned. Six people and the place still feels like he’s living alone. 

“A pleasant morning Bruce!” 

Bruce almost dropped his cup of tea as Thor came barreling down the stairs. _Haven’t no one taught him how to speak while not screaming?_ His hair was still in a man bun but at least his choice of clothes wasn’t so, puerile, anymore. 

Bruce gave a small smile. “Morning,” he greeted back. 

“I shall head to class now,” He said. “It was nice seeing you.” 

Bruce frowned, he wasn’t really expecting that the guy to still be in college, because he looks like his already in his mid-twenties. Then again, the owner did say that he was preferably taking in college students. 

Then the frown on his face deepened. 

He glanced at the wall clock Tony had placed near the stairs and stared: it was too early for any class to start. 

He had just concluded that he was actually living with weird people when an unfamiliar man walked down the stairs. He was rubbing one of his eyes, yawning, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a very tight tank top. Both of his ears were sporting some small purple device, but his hair kept getting in the way before Bruce could make out what it was. 

Unlike Thor, he didn’t acknowledge Bruce, he just went straight towards the fridge, grabbing Tony’s milk carton—with an exaggerated amount of sticky notes with the word ‘Tony’s’ plastered all over it, and started drinking straight from the box. Bruce just stared at him, _at least now I know who keeps drinking Tony’s milk supply,_ until the guy finally emptied the box before putting it back inside the fridge. 

_Huh, so this is Clint._

Bruce must’ve said it out loud because the guy whipped his head and stared at Bruce. 

“Sup,” He greeted. 

Bruce didn’t acknowledge him, he was too busy with his own thoughts. For a guy who started using sticky notes to claim property, he tends to ignore it. 

When Clint didn’t receive any response other than a very long, very weird stare, he glanced around awkwardly before staring back at Bruce. 

“Ooookay…” He muttered finally breaking eye contact as he closed the fridge. “Not the talking type, I could live with that,” he added heading straight towards the bathroom. 

It was either Clint intended for Bruce to hear that, or the building was just too quiet that he heard him say it. 

Bruce was about to take another sip from his tea when he spotted Tony walking down the stairs wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of boxers, his hair was all over the place. Bruce’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, Tony usually doesn’t wake up at this hour—even though class starts today it’s still too early. But then again there’s a bigger chance he hadn’t even slept at all. 

Tony made a beeline towards the fridge and pulled out his now empty milk carton. He gave it a little jiggle before cursing, “It already has a fucking name on it dammit” before throwing it in the trash bin. 

Bruce barely heard Tony muttering about his allowance getting wasted on someone he doesn’t know before finally noticing Bruce, his tea still half way to his lips 

“Morning,” Tony greeted raising one hand. 

Bruce nodded in acknowledgment “You’re early.” 

“I can’t be late for class if I don’t want Pep giving me an hour-long lecture about maturity,” Tony stated while grabbing a box of pop tarts on the counter. Bruce was about to ask who the hell Pep was but Tony, having noticed the sticky note with the name ‘THOR’ written in bold letters, was staring at Bruce waiting for an answer. 

"He just moved in this morning,” Bruce answered. 

Shrugging, Tony took the box of pop tarts upstairs with him without saying anything in return. 

“The toaster’s right here—" 

“I have one in my room.” 

Bruce didn’t bother asking why. 

Clint came out from the bathroom a few minutes after Tony left. He gave Bruce a nod, acknowledging him, along with a face that says ‘Why are you still standing there?’ before climbing up the stairs. 

_3 down, 2 more t—_

The red-haired lady came down the stairs and left through the door just like that in a span of ten seconds. He started to wonder if she’s really a real ghost. 

_I mean 4 down, 1 more to go._

Bruce had just finished drinking his tea when the front door opened. In came Steve in his jogging clothes, his hair sticking on his forehead. 

“Morning,” Steve greeted as he made his way towards the fridge. 

Bruce nodded while, oddly, but not surprising, starts singing the national anthem inside his head. 

Grabbing a bottle of water, with a sticky note labelled ‘Steve’ in the front, Steve nodded at Bruce and padded his way up the stairs. 

It was funny how they all seem to come out when the other was there only a few minutes ago. How they were all so close to seeing each other, and yet not so much. 

If he hadn’t stayed in the kitchen, Bruce wondered if he would have taken part in this funny interaction—well as much interaction as it would get. Even though he hadn’t seen them all together, seeing that there are actual people living in the building, Bruce found himself not feeling like he’s alone anymore. 

Well, not entirely. 

The feeling was still there, but one look at Thor’s large handwriting on one of the pop tart boxes, he knew he’s not really living alone. Grinning, Bruce wondered if he should start placing in some food in the fridge with his own sticky notes. 


	3. It's The Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint doesn't like sleepless nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as possible, I'm trying to make the characters here as normal college students as possible. So don't get confused when their characteristics are somewhat inaccurate.

A bird.

Clint is basically a bird, minus the wings and the eating of worms. He tends to spend his time hanging on high places: rooftop, terraces, trees, vents (especially vents), and whatever he could reach and fit himself in while eating anything that’s edible. The feeling of staying hidden from others while you have the luxury to watch them gives Clint this strange satisfaction. 

He’s not really hiding per say, he’s basically just not part of their field of vision, just like a bird perched on top of an electrical wiring, you wouldn’t notice it unless you look up.

He also creates his own nest, a nest of dirty clothes and piles of junk in his room. Not that he’s a couch potato or anything, but to him, having a clean room doesn’t feel like you own it, having it muddled up shows that it's yours. 

Clint is a bird.

Clint is a weird bird.

And just like any other early weird bird, he catches the worm.

Clint was the first one to discover the building, the first to snag a room, the first to move in, the first to start the sudden tradition of sticky notes, and also the first to drink Tony’s carton of milk (thinking it was his before he realized his name wasn’t on it—though once he started it he can’t really stop himself).

It was odd, yet amusing, watching how each room slowly gets occupied by different people, and how each and every one of them had a weird way of arriving there. Except for the red-headed lady whose name he didn’t catch, he actually has no idea how or when she moved in, he just woke up one morning spotting her exit the bathroom.

And because he doesn’t like to share his stuff with strangers (or strange people that only shows up in the bathroom) he started putting sticky notes on his foods inside the fridge.

Clint isn’t really the quiet type, just like any other birds, he’s actually chirpy. But after living with a girl who you actually just saw ones, and it was morning in an ungodly hour, he found himself, well, quiet.

When Bruce moved in, he was perched on the roof that he secretly climbs from his window. He actually had half a mind to help the guy but decided not to. It was amusing to watch him carry his boxes while he trips on non-existent rocks, how he searched for other occupants in the building while shouting ‘hello’, or how he got surprised seeing Clint’s sticky notes in the fridge.

It only started on Bruce, then Tony, then Steve, then the next thing he knew, he was secretly watching all of them wander around the building. He watched them create stories about him and the lady being a ghost, how Tony asked Bruce about his milk being empty again, how Steve always follows his inhuman schedule and how Thor, well, be Thor. Everything about the guy was already amusing.

It’s like watching a reality show, minus the T.V.

* * *

A few days passed and Clint found himself starting a new tradition—other than putting your name on your food. He didn’t mean it to stick though, it was just supposed to be a message.

It was probably three in the morning, he was sleeping on his bed when it actually started to vibrate. If there was one thing Clint hated about himself, it’s being a light sleeper, just like a bird. 

Granted, Tony’s room had always been nosy at an ungodly hour ever since he moved there. But he could live with it, he could sleep through Tony’s ruckus completely unfazed, because, well, Clint’s _deaf_. He could just take his hearing aids off and then problem solved.

Being deaf isn’t really a huge hazard for Clint. Sure it can really be annoying at times, but being deaf for most of his life, it’s only normal to get used to it. Clint wasn’t really born deaf, it’s just like any other cliché childhood story where he got it from an accident. 

At first, he thought his life couldn’t get any shittier after losing his sense of hearing, but he realized that maybe the accident was a blessing in disguise. For one, he could just leave the other guy, Bruce, to handle Tony and his racket. Also, it’s a good perk when he’s talking to a very annoying acquaintance from campus. All he needed to do was nod and smile and no one will know he wasn’t actually listening.

But that night, Tony had successfully made the deaf wide awake with his racket. He was making such a commotion, Clint’s whole room was vibrating. And since he had never actually shown himself to anyone, (except for Bruce who he didn’t notice standing in the kitchen staring at him one morning, then again he was bound to slip at least ones) he decided to keep it that way, for now. Even if the urge to bang on Tony’s door was so strong it could rival the Hulk.

He waited patiently for anyone to knock on Tony’s door and tell him to shut the hell up. Because seriously, some of them have classes to attend.

But nobody knocked on Tony’s door. Clint could already see the sun shining through his window and his bed was still vibrating. Granted, his room was next to Tony’s, and therefore the only one who can feel the vibration, but what about the noise?

Bruce could have gotten used to it or had grown tired of rising from his bed just to shut Tony. _But who the hell gets used to noises like those?!_

Steve wears earplugs in his sleep. _I’ve seen it, not gonna question why._

Thor could sleep through a whole alien invasion if there was one. _I should ask him for advice, someday._

And the lady with the red hair, well, _it’s basic knowledge to not question what she does for a living._

When the shaking finally stopped, his first class was about to start in an hour and he barely slept a wink. At first, Clint thought it was just a one-time thing. Ignoring the sudden urge to complain or two hang the man up the flagpole in nothing but boxers, he decided to just get started with his day.

Only it happened again the following night.

And again.

And again.

Having the maximum amount of two hours of sleep was nowhere near Clint’s to-do list, Tony would be the death of him if he continues this up. Maybe karma’s already paying him a visit, which is ridiculous because it’s just a box of milk... well, eight boxes of milk…

… Actually, he lost count.

But this has got to stop.

Before going to class, Clint had taped a long bond paper on the fridge, words written in huge letters. He’s not angry, that’s just how he writes, not angry at all.

_Dear Person sleeping at the far left side of the hallway,_

_You’re not the only one living here, please keep the noise down._

_Sincerely, Clint._

By the time Clint got home—which was a little later than when he usually prefers and was doing his routine that consists of consuming Tony’s milk supply, when he noticed four new papers taped on the fridge, all baring a message.

Frowning, he took the smallest one, a yellow sticky note with a handwriting as if it was screaming. It read:

_DEAR CLINT,_

_THEN STOP DRINKING MY MILK._

_SINCERELY, PERSON SLEEPING AT THE FAR LEFT SIDE OF THE HALLWAY_

Not that he wasn’t expecting it, he knew the guy was bound to complain about it and it wasn’t that hard to figure out he was the culprit (The nameless lady doesn’t seem like the type to steal food—or to actually participate with anything), but that was just grade A skills with changing topics.

Involving a topic not even connected with the fact that the guy’s been giving him dark circles under his eyes is such a low blow.

Clint just frowned at the next three letters addressing to him:

_Try using earplugs, it works.—Steve_

_I listen to classical music with my earphones, it helps.—Bruce_

_IS THIS HOW WE BARE MESSAGES TO EACH OTHER? –THOR_

Though Thor’s note looks more like it was addressed to everyone.

Sighing, Clint took all the taped notes, including his, and threw it on the trash bin. He grabbed his notebook inside his bag and ripped a page.

_I will if you keep it down.—Clint_

He debated whether to drink Tony’s milk or not, but he decided that he’s been an asshole enough, and there’s nothing wrong with skipping a few days. Besides, maybe he’ll get a good night sleep tonight.

* * *

He didn’t.

It was nearly four in the morning when he decided to give up trying to sleep and just start the day, maybe the archery range at the campus was already open.

Again, he decided whether to confront the man that has been forbidding him to sleep, but thought that he’d rather blow off some steam with archery. And again, he debated whether to drink from Tony’s milk, but he’d rather want to have some good night sleep.

Clint found himself running his ass across campus trying to catch his next class after realizing he had overslept in the archery range. After doing a few shots, he decided to take a nap, only to actually spend the next few hours sleeping. _Note to self:_ he thought as his whole back ached. _Don’t sleep at the archery range, hurts like a bitch._

When he got back, even later than yesterday after having another row with the Archery club president—something about stop using the archery range as a hotel (“I slept there ones! And that was just today!”), he found the fridge with exactly four more notes.

_CLINT, I APPRECIATE YOU NOT DRINKING THE MILK BTW, BUT I’M STILL NOT SURE IF THAT’S GONNA BE A ONE-TIME THING.—PERSON SLEEPING AT THE FAR LEFT SIDE OF THE HALLWAY_

Clint glared at the note. He could have just used Tony already.

_Tony, How about every time Clint doesn’t drink your milk you don’t make a racket. Seems fair. –Steve._

Clint blinked at the second note, it did sound fair.

_Fair? Clint’s not the only one not getting enough shut eye.—Natasha._

Clint blinked at the third note too much to even be considered as normal. He did a double check if the note wasn’t an illusion or something. So the nameless lady actually has a name, and she actually acknowledged them, maybe she is able to participate after all.

_WHO IS THIS NATASHA? WHY HAVE I NOT SEEN YOUR NAME AROUND? ARE YOU ONE OF THE RESIDENTS OF THIS FACILITY?—THOR_

Clint actually found himself grinning at Thor’s obliviousness, only to frown when he realized that he was grinning. 

He grabbed his notebook and ripped another page. 

_I like Steve’s idea.—Clint_

* * *

_WHY WAS MY MILK EMPTY AGAIN?—PERSON SLEEPING AT THE FAR LEFT SIDE OF THE HALLWAY_

_My room was practically vibrating with your madness.—Clint_

_INDEED, I HAVE TO AGREE WITH CLINT. MY ROOM WAS ALSO VIBRATING WHEN I WAKENED.—THOR_

* * *

_If anyone saw a blue notebook laying around, it’s mine—Steve_

_I placed it on the shelf.—Natasha_

_So, is this a thing now?—Bruce_

* * *

_Tony, whatever you did last night, keep doing it. I honestly forgot how amazing sleep is.—Clint_

_REALLY? I WAS QUIET?—PERSON SLEEPING AT THE FAR LEFT SIDE OF THE HALLWAY_

_You were bearable—Bruce_

* * *

_Have anyone seen my glasses? I don’t have a spare and if any of you saw it please tell Me.—Bruce_

_Top shelf.—Natasha_

* * *

_Who owns the spaghetti in the green Tupperware? It doesn’t have a name.—Bruce_

_Anyone can have it, I made too many last night.—Steve_

_You cook? You don’t look like you cook. Also, thanks, I’m getting tired with hotdogs—Clint_

_Next time, wash your dishes.—Natasha_

* * *

_Tony, I barely slept a wink!—Clint_

_I BARELY MADE ANY NOISE.—PERSON SLEEPING AT THE FAR LEFT SIDE OF THE HALLWAY_

_Use earplugs, it really helps I swear.—Steve_

_AM I THE ONLY ONE NOT HEARING THIS NOISE?—THOR_

* * *

_Barely made a noise? My room was dancing!—Clint_

_MY ALLOWANCE ISN’T DUE UNTIL NEXT WEEK, WHY THE HELL DID YOU FINISH OFF MY MILK?—PERSON SLEEPING AT THE FAR LEFT SIDE OF THE HALLWAY_

_I thought you only run on coffee?—Bruce_

* * *

_REALLY NOW?! I SWEAR I WAS QUIET—PERSON SLEEPING AT THE FAR LEFT SIDE OF THE HALLWAY_

_I didn’t touch your milk—Clint_

_Sorry, I thought it was mine. Didn’t saw the note, I was barely awake—Steve_

* * *

_THAT’S IT. STEVE, CLINT, BOTH OF YOU ARE ON MY SHIT LIST—PERSON SLEEPING AT THE FAR LEFT SIDE OF THE HALLWAY_

_I apologized!—Steve_

_Like I care—Clint_

_WHAT IS THIS SHIT LIST?—THOR_

* * *

_WHO OWNS THE PURPLE HEARING DEVICE IN THE BATHROOM? IT POSSESSED A TITLE THAT IS STARK, DOES ANYONE KNOW A PERSON ENTITLED STARK?—THOR_

_WAIT, YOU MEAN A HEARING AID?—PERSON SLEEPING AT THE FAR LEFT SIDE OF THE HALLWAY_

Clint stared at the two notes sticking on the fridge.

He could have just written where he placed the hearing aid, or he could have just left it in the bathroom. But no, he just had to ask the whole building.

He never really hid the fact that he was deaf, but he never really showed it. Out of all the people who should know about his disability, it should be Bruce—being that he’s the only one he ever met face to face. But either he kept quiet or that he didn’t notice.

The thing is, He got drunk last night.

A friend of his invited him to a party, who was he to decline? Only when he woke up the next morning, nursing a massive hangover, did he notice that there was only one hearing aid on his nightstand.

Ignoring the pain from his head, Clint bolted down the stairs. Hearing aids cost a fortune, especially Stark hearing aids, he can’t handle losing one. He could barely sustain himself with his lousy part-time job. Even though he wanted to give up so bad at some point, he just can’t. Going back there, to that kind of life, he can’t do that anymore.

And he can’t just buy any other cheaper brand than Stark’s. Stark’s the only brand that can actually let him hear, not garbled sounds his old hearing aids used to supply. If he wants to graduate from college and avoid going back to his old life, he needs to hear.

As soon as his eyes landed on the note taped on the fridge, he was dead set on ignoring it and just go find his hearing aid. But it was nowhere.

Thor must’ve thought it was a good idea to hold it and just hand it over once he got an answer, _idiot_. He should be pissed, he should be angry, but honestly, Clint wasn’t, and in fact, he couldn’t really feel anything. As if a part of him knew they were bound to find out about it.

That morning, Clint went to his class wearing one hearing aid. Sure it was a pain that he could barely hear the professor on top of his hangover, but maybe he could handle it for just a day. When he got back, he saw his hearing aid exactly on the place where he asked Thor to leave it.

He picked it up and glanced at the fridge.

_WHO OWNS THE PURPLE HEARING DEVICE IN THE BATHROOM? IT POSSESSED A TITLE THAT IS STARK, DOES ANYONE KNOW A PERSON ENTITLED STARK?—THOR_

_WAIT, YOU MEAN A HEARING AID?—PERSON SLEEPING AT THE FAR LEFT SIDE OF THE HALLWAY_

_It’s mine, leave it on the counter—Clint_

_Tony, you should win an award for creating so much noise you kept Clint awake—Bruce_

_You should repay his sleepless nights with more milk—Natasha_

_MY ALLOWANCE ISN’T DUE UNTIL NEXT WEEK—PERSON SLEEPING AT THE FAR LEFT SIDE OF THE HALLWAY_

_I made extra spaghetti again—Steve_

Clint snorted and opened the fridge, true to his words, there were leftover spaghetti. Glancing at the notes taped on the fridge, he couldn’t help but notice that he and Tony are not the only ones good at changing topics.

The next morning, Clint woke up with an angry bladder about to explode.

He rushed down the stairs and ran straight towards the bathroom, praying that no one was occupying the only toilet. He thanked the heavens when no one was—though a very, very (like, really) small part of him was hoping he’d bump into Natasha using the toilet. He’s a man, after all, it also doesn’t help that the first time he saw her was in the bathroom.

As soon as he was done, Clint washed his hands and made a beeline towards the fridge, might as well get on with the day. He could spend some time in the archery before his next class anyway.

He was rummaging through his food—which was far less than usual—he was really getting tight with his budget when a hand landed on his shoulder.

Clint jumped and had almost thrown a punch at the intruder when he realized that it was just Tony, hands raised as if to say he meant no harm. 

Putting his fist down, Clint couldn’t help but notice that the other guy was studying him, then he realized it was technically the first time they saw each other.

Glancing at the fridge behind him, Clint asked if he was going to look for something inside it, only he didn’t hear his own voice. His hands shot up to his ears and realized that he wasn’t wearing his aids. Which was funny because he should have noticed that while using the bathroom.

Before he could excuse himself to grab his hearing aids up his room, Tony threw him a box. He immediately caught it, before he could ask what the hell it was, Tony was out the door.

A note was taped on the box:

_DEAR CLINT,_

_IF YOU GIVE THIS BACK I WILL PERSONALLY PUNCH YOU ON THE FACE, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG I PERSUADED PEPPER TO SNEAK ME A SET._

Clint frowned, _Who’s Pepper?_

_ALL I ASK IN RETURN IS STOP USING THAT OUTDATED MODEL AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, STOP DRINKING MY MILK. I HOPE I DON’T GET ANYMORE COMPLAINS AFTER THIS._

_SINCERELY, PERSON SLEEPING AT THE FAR LEFT SIDE OF THE HALLWAY_

_P.S. I’M NOT DOING THIS BECAUSE I PITY YOU, I PITY YOUR STUPID HEARING AIDS. USING OLD MODELS SHOULD BE A CRIME._

Clint nearly dropped his hold on the box when he saw that it was the new model of Stark hearing aids. How Tony—or whoever this Pepper lady is, got their hands on a set was beyond him. He even got the right type of hearing aids that he needed. Then again, he technically told Thor to leave it on the counter for everyone to see.

Rushing out of the building, he barely caught Tony.

He grabbed him by the arm and turned the other guy to face him. Tony stared at him with both of his eyebrows raised as Clint pointed at the box and said, “Why?”

Tony just pointed at the note.

“You do know I can’t really hear you, I’m just complaining about the shaking you keep doing every night. This thing isn’t going to help me stop protesting. Also, holy shit! Why would you buy me this when I barely even know you?!” Clint was sure Tony barely got any of what he said.

The bad side of being unable to hear is being unable to know if your pronunciation was correct. Sure, he’s not like the others, he was old enough when he lost his hearing, but he can’t really assume he said everything correct.

Tony stared at him for a full minute before whipping up his phone. He typed something for a few seconds before shoving his phone in front of Clint.

_Just stop drinking my milk._

“And spend the whole time living here with a vibrating room?”

Tony typed again. _I’m not that heartless, just stop drinking my milk._

Glancing around, Tony typed again on his phone. _Also, next time, wear something that’s actually presentable before going out._

That’s when Clint realized he was only wearing his boxers and a very loose tank top in the middle of the road.

* * *

_CLINT, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, I MADE SURE I WASN’T MAKING THE WHOLE PLACE DANCE THE CONGA! WHY?!—PERSON SLEEPING AT THE FAR LEFT SIDE OF THE HALLWAY_

_Sorry, habits die hard—Clint_


	4. The Color Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha's hobby is people-watching.

It’s not that she hates people, she just doesn’t care.

The fact that SHIELD University wasn’t all that strict with the first-years-needs-to-live-in-campus rule didn’t help with the fact that the reason Natasha even went to college was to ‘get to know other people’.

She was fine with restarting a new life, changing her name, forgetting everything she left behind. She already had a plan, get a job, any job would do, get a flat and spend the rest of her life without needing anybody. But her therapist—which name she never bothered to remember, insists that she needs to ‘explore the world’ as if she hasn’t explored it enough.

She was fortunate enough to land a decent job a shady nineteen-year-old could ever get. And just to get her therapist off her back, she agreed to attend college.

The idea of sharing a room with a person she doesn’t know, let alone trust, repulses her and was set on finding another place to stay. As soon as she discovered the lonely building near the campus, she decided to take a room without any second thoughts.

As soon as she told her therapist, he actually thought it was a good idea to live with other people. He just doesn’t know Natasha was doing everything to avoid them at all cost. Her job was a good excuse when classes haven’t started yet, and once classes did start, avoiding them would be a walk in the park.

On her first day, she did her best not to be seen by anyone. She didn’t own a lot of stuff, so it was easy to move in without getting that much attention. She picked the farthest room on the right wall, considering that it was the only room that had two windows. It’s not that she likes windows, it’s just nice to think that if she ever needed to leave immediately she has two ways out.

Days passed, she realized she was currently living with two other males, one of which was actually decent at hiding (Read: decent). She caught him spying on her when she was exiting the bathroom on her first night. When she moved in, she wasn’t expecting for a third one to move in so quickly—or for anyone to move in earlier than her actually. Classes don’t start for a month, and yet here they are.

Then again, she had her own issues, maybe they had their own.

A few weeks in, with each rooms getting taken, Natasha found herself staring at none other than Anthony Edward Stark through her window. She gets it, a few people actually took a tour around the place, like that big blonde All-American guy and that other guy named Bruce. She just couldn’t wrap her head why Tony, the Tony Stark, was looking for a place to stay.

He’s famous, a person who grew up with people praising his every move, and yet here he was.

For a moment, she thought he caught her looking at him, but the guy appeared to be more preoccupied at judging the place.

When he left, she thought that was the last she’ll ever see of him, only to be surprised when he actually moved in. She spent the whole day frowning in her room, wondering why the sole heir of Stark Industries was even there. 

She didn’t like it when she doesn’t know something, sure she doesn’t care why the others were even there, but this guy’s a Stark.

It also didn’t help that she was the only one bothered, or that she was the only one recognizing him.

She was even more surprised when he actually started attending classes at SHEILD, even more, when she realized he was using a fake name.

For a moment she thought she just mistook Tony Smith as Anthony Stark. But she was never wrong, she knew he’s the same guy.

Rather than finding it annoying, Natasha found it rather amusing. She decided to watch how things would turn out, because the longer she stayed, she realized that she was right.

Every one of them had their own issues.

* * *

Closing the door behind her, Natasha glanced around. No one had returned yet, or maybe they were already there but in their respective rooms.

It appears that another tenant had arrived, a guy named Thor—she had heard weirder names, the mountain of pop tart boxes taped with a note that says ‘THOR’ was an explanation enough that he wanted to include himself with such silly antics.

That moment, when Natasha saw the foods in the fridge with the name ‘Clint’ taped at the front of each, she only raised a brow and rolled her eyes.

She hadn’t expected for it to stick though. Mainly because she expected the other tenants to use the place as a place to sleep, not to actually consider it as a home. That’s how she considers it. Her schedule consists of sleeping and taking a bath there, and the other remaining errands were always done outside.

But as soon as the Heir of Stark company started placing food with his name on the fridge, Natasha instantly knew it’ll be a thing around here.

Looking back, the action makes sense. You have to live with five different strangers, it was normal to label your own stuff. But she just couldn’t find herself including in.

Bruce hadn’t joined with the silly tradition yet, so she guessed she wasn’t the only one.

* * *

Natasha blinked at the small jar placed on the counter next to Thor’s ridiculous supply of pop tarts.

She knew for a fact that Bruce never seems to drink coffee, just tea. Wherever he keeps his supply was his business. But now, Natasha’s staring at it. A small note with the name ‘Bruce’ was taped at the front and the lid had a label that says ‘tea’—probably because at first glance it looks like marijuana.

She stared at it long and hard before grabbing her discarded bag on the floor and left for class.

When she came back hours later, she was holding an apple. Glancing around, she grabbed the note she previously made, her name visible on the pale paper, and stuck it on the red apple.

She swung open the fridge and immediately frowned. The first thing she saw was Tony’s milk, considering that the note taped on it was exaggeratingly big as if he was making a point—Clint should really get the memo. She didn’t know which was better, the fact that Tony moved on from using a lot of sticky notes for one milk, or the fact that he started using bigger notes than the actual object.

Her eyes followed Steve’s water supply, with each having his name labeled at the front. Then at Clint’s, slowly decreasing, food supply complete with his name and…

_… Are those emoji?_

Natasha stared at the contents for a good full minute before swinging the fridge shut. She ripped off the note from her apple and crumpled it into a ball before throwing it away to the nearest trash bin. Hiking her bag up her shoulder, Natasha bit on her apple and climbed up to her room.

_I am not joining something so juvenile_

* * *

Natasha’s really good at ignoring things.

Even sleep.

It was hard to forget that she wasn’t living in a world where she needs to sacrifice anything just to gain something. Every time she closed her eyes she felt as if she was back there again as if she never left. Being awake was the only thing she could use to ignore it.

But in rare moments she does sleep, like tonight. 

If only a certain heir of Stark Industries would learn how to keep quiet.

Sitting up, she made a mental note to buy a pair of earplugs—because apparently the guy still makes a racket even when class already started, and grabbed her slippers. Opening her door, she glared at Tony’s bedroom in front of her before throwing one of her sleepers at the closed door.

The noise stopped and Tony’s door popped open, his head peeking out.

Natasha didn’t say anything, she just glared at the goatee-wearing millionaire.

“I have earplugs,” Tony offered.

Natasha stared at him.

“You can have it,” he continued.

Natasha slammed the door shut.

Okay, maybe she should have taken the earplugs, but at least she made her point.

* * *

Apparently, she didn’t.

Groaning, Natasha opened her nightstand drawer and grabbed the pair of earplugs she managed to buy that morning. Now she understood why Bruce gave up on Tony, he just doesn’t listen.

* * *

_Dear Person sleeping at the far left side of the hallway,_

_You’re not the only one living here, please keep the noise down._

_Sincerely, Clint._

Natasha just stared at the note taped on the fridge, an amused smirk on her face. Turns out, she wasn’t the only one avoiding human contact.

Hiking her bag up her shoulder, Natasha left for class.

* * *

“How's class?”

Natasha stared at her therapist, looking like she wasn’t going to answer the question anytime soon, and was visibly wanting to finish the session. But apparently, her therapist was already immune under her gaze as he continued to smile at her as if they were talking about the weather and not Natasha’s future plans for his funeral.

Natasha shifted on her seat and crossed her legs, raising a challenging brow at her therapist.

She hated their sessions, and yet she never missed a day. It was a reminder that her days in that kind of life was over, it grounded her. She didn’t like it, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t need it. She’s not that stupid to believe she didn’t need help.

“So you’re still using that no-talking-until-my-forty-five-minute-session-is-up strategy?” Her therapist asked. “Fine, but you know, you’re uncle’s not going to be happy when he finds out.”

Natasha snorted, Fury was her uncle as much as Tony’s ever going to be quiet with his projects. She’s just fortunate enough that guy took pity of her and took her in, and the fact that he’s the dean in SHIELD and enrolling in wasn’t that hard, it was just a bonus.

“Okay, how about your roommates? Any progress”

She wanted to correct him that they weren’t roommates, they don’t share a room after all. Instead, Natasha found herself saying: “I threw my slipper at Tony the other night.”

Her therapist didn’t blink, as if that certain information Natasha shared was a normal thing normal people do. 

“Why? Is he acting negatively to you?”

Natasha did her best not to roll her eyes. Stereotyping is an awful thing to do, but she couldn’t help it whenever she’s around him. “No, he was making a racket and I couldn’t sleep.”

“I see,” they wrote something down as Natasha clicked her tongue. “So you’ve been sleeping well, you didn’t mention that last time.”

Natasha just stared at him.

“Any nightmares?”

No reply.

“Or do you still stay awake most of the night?”

Again, no reply.

The man nodded and continued to write something down. “So, this Tony, have you talked to him prior to the slipper incident?”

Natasha shook her head. “No.”

“How about the others? Have you talked to them, made any friends?”

Natasha looked down at her lap. Friends, no, nothing to be surprised about there. But for some reasons, she was brought back to the memory where she tried to leave an apple with her name on the fridge. She didn’t know why she remembered it suddenly, but it made her frown.

“Anything wrong?”

“I was about to leave an apple.” The frown deepened when she realized she answered her therapist’s question.

But in all honesty, she didn’t know why she was frowning in the first place. She wasn’t angry, or sad, it’s more like she was trying to solve something. Which doesn’t make any sense, she thinks that whatever it is the others were doing was childish and she didn’t want to be a part of it, end of discussion. And yet here she was, thinking about it with no reason why it even crossed her mind.

“An apple?”

She ignored him, suddenly realizing why it popped into her head.

“I think I was about to do it.”

“Yes, we know you were about to leave an apple.”

Natasha shook her head. “Not that.”

She wanted to bathe at the fact that she finally made her therapist frown, but she was too busy thinking. “You were about to what exactly?” he asked.

Make friends? Open up? Socialize? She’s not so sure, all she knew was she was about to do something.

“I was about to do something but I stopped myself.”

She was convinced she finally made her therapist confused because for once he wasn’t writing anything down, he was just waiting for her to say something.

“Was it a bad thing?” He asked. “Whatever it is you were about to do.”

“I was about to leave an apple,” she said raising an eyebrow. “You think that’s a bad thing?”

“Then why stop?”

 _Because it was stupid._ But she didn’t answer, for the rest of the session she kept her mouth shut.

Partially, she was pissed at her therapist. She should never have opened her mouth, she knew he’ll ask questions after questions. But the truth was, she was pissed at herself for actually opening her mouth. The questions didn’t help. She knew the reason she stopped herself was because it was stupid.

Stupid, that’s enough explanation.

But an annoying small part of herself wasn’t buying it.

 _Admit it, you’re scared._ It said.

And it was right, she was scared.

* * *

_Dear Person sleeping at the far left side of the hallway,_

_You’re not the only one living here, please keep the noise down._

_Sincerely, Clint._

_DEAR CLINT,_

_THEN STOP DRINKING MY MILK._

_SINCERELY, PERSON SLEEPING AT THE FAR LEFT SIDE OF THE HALLWAY_

_Try using earplugs, it works.—Steve_

_I listen to classical music with my earphones, it helps.—Bruce_

_IS THIS HOW WE BARE MESSAGES TO EACH OTHER? –THOR_

Natasha’s brows furrowed.

She had just gotten back from her session and was expecting to find herself locked in her room again, but instead, she was staring at the notes taped on the fridge.

In all honesty, she wasn’t expecting the others to reply, considering that the note Clint left was for Tony alone. And now, staring at the other notes, her hand itched to leave her own comment.

Her right hand slowly raised, torn between slinging off her bag from her shoulder and not.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, but in the end, she ended up fisting her raised hand instead. Shoving both hands in her pockets, she exhaled and left. What was she going to leave anyway? For Clint to use earplugs? Bruce already did it anyway.

* * *

_CLINT, I APPRECIATE YOU NOT DRINKING THE MILK BTW, BUT I’M STILL NOT SURE IF THAT’S GONNA BE A ONE-TIME THING.—PERSON SLEEPING AT THE FAR LEFT SIDE OF THE HALLWAY_

_Tony, How about every time Clint doesn’t drink your milk you don’t make a racket. Seems fair. –Steve._

Natasha stared at the notes taped on the fridge then glanced down at the note she made, debating if she should tape it or not.

_Fair? Clint’s not the only one not getting enough shut eye.—Natasha._

Her note was juvenile as if she was trying her best to drag herself in the conversation. 

But if she was being honest with herself, the only reason why she was having an internal war between leaving a note or not was because of the same reason she couldn’t really leave an apple in the fridge.

She was scared.

After everything, she realized trust is something you can’t just give to anyone, same goes with attachment. They’re not here to stay, and the same goes for her. Like everyone else, people come and goes, they never stay. It wasn’t healthy to get attached. And right then, the thing she’s about to do is the exact step to getting attached.

_You'll just leave a note, there’s nothing wrong with that._

Natasha glared at the notes, how she managed to sound like her therapist was not exactly a nice thing to realize.

Before anything else could happen, Natasha slammed the note at the fridge and hurriedly left for her class.

* * *

Natasha glanced at the empty-noted fridge and did her best to suppress a frown.

For some reasons, she found it quite amusing waking up, coming back from class—or from her job, to find notes sticking on the fridge. Most of it wasn’t really there for her, it was either for Clint or for Tony, but something about the whole situation was, well, comical.

She was about to climb up to her room when she caught something from the corner of her eyes. Frowning, she made her way at the couch and grabbed the blue notebook wedged on the sofa cushions—how she managed to see it was one of the attributes she liked about herself. Sometimes it has its downsides, but it comes really handy especially from peeping Toms.

Flipping through the pages, she realized there was no name or any form of ownership. Other than a few body sketches, she found the notebook boring and a waste of her interest. Not really caring, she threw it at the shelf in case anybody from the five was looking for it.

The next morning Natasha blinked at the note on the fridge.

_If anyone saw a blue notebook laying around, it’s mine—Steve_

She glanced at the shelf and saw that the little notebook was still there. Either Steve’s not so great with finding things that are practically there in front of his face, or he just never bothered to search.

She likes to think it was the latter.

_I placed it on the shelf.—Natasha_

* * *

“Hi”

Natasha turned and stared at the big blonde guy standing at the bathroom door. She furrowed her eyebrows at him as she turned off the faucet and dried her hands on the towel hanging by the side.

“You’re Natasha right?”

She just stared at him.

The Steve fidgeted under her gaze. “I, uh, thanks.” She raised one of her eyebrows. “About the notebook,” he elaborated.

The blue notebook flashed inside her head and shrugged. “I wasn’t looking for it, I just found it,” she said.

“Yeah but—” He didn’t get to finish what he said as she’s gesturing at Steve that he was blocking the door.

Blinking, Steve turned to look at the door. “Oh, yeah, sorry,” he said moving out of the way.

Putting both her hands inside her pockets, Natasha made a beeline towards the front door and left for class, unaware that she was somewhat smiling.

* * *

_Thanks—Bruce_

Natasha stared at the note taped on her door. She glanced around, expecting to see Bruce standing sheepishly with her in the corridor, but she was alone.

Picking at the note, she stared at it for a very long period before folding it up and slipping it in one of her notebooks. Maybe showing this to her therapist could help and finally loosen up his lectures about her ‘tendencies to push people away’.

She made her way towards her class unaware of the small smile playing on her lips.

* * *

Natasha watched Tony and Clint talk from her window, or as much as a conversation the two could possibly have as it appears that Clint wasn’t wearing his hearing aids—considering that Tony was using his phone.

Clint frantically waved at the small box he was holding, and Natasha may have squinted at the said box before finding herself smiling. This time, she knew she was smiling and she did nothing to stop herself.

Maybe the people she’s living with aren’t so bad.

She learned not to be attached, but maybe she could make an exception at people who aren’t so bad. She was still scared, yes, but a bigger part of her was enjoying it. Besides, like her, she noticed everyone was taking baby steps.

That day, her therapist took a double take when she answered him that she was feeling good, and that same day, Natasha ignored Thor’s loud declaration that he finally found Natasha’s name on an apple in the fridge. She couldn’t help but grin at Thor’s lone note on the fridge the next morning.

_I HAVE FOUND NATASHA’S NAME! SHE IS NOT A GHOST FRIEND TONY—THOR_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, i know creating a college based story when you're not a college student seem stupid, but in my defense, I am stupid. Also, that fact that I wrote the first draft of this story at 3 in the morning hiding from my parents gives credit. And yeah, I should be updating I'm Not A Menace, but I'm currently fighting off writer's block with that story.
> 
> Okay, I'm getting out of topic.
> 
> The point is, if the college life in this story seem made up, that's because it is. I tried alright, I really tried asking and researching, but college here in my country runs really differently. For starters, Dorms aren't a big deal. Not one college here requires any first year students to take residency.
> 
> Okay, bottom line, if it seems made up, it's made up.


	5. Not Abstract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is in some sort of a mess,
> 
> Nope, Steve's a mess and he needs to start picking himself up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, sorry.
> 
> I don't know how College works XD.

Steve stared at his painting before running a hand over his face, only to realize that it was covered with acrylic.

“Shoot,” he muttered.

Giving his painting a last glance, he left his room and made a beeline towards the bathroom—as expected the first floor was empty. He let out a groan when he spotted his reflection from the mirror and saw a big blob of red and blue on his face.

_Hey that’s nice_

Steve shook his head and scrubbed at the painting from his palms until the paint was no longer visible.

_It’s just, well, it looks vacant._

He continued to scrub his palms even when the skin turned bright red.

_Like, the painting doesn’t hold anything, at all._

Steve furiously shut the faucet off.

He never had any problem with drawing or painting before. But now, every time he stares at all of his recent artworks, he can’t help but notice that it holds nothing. Ever since that day, ever since he woke up, everything was just so empty.

He wasn’t an art major because he was stupid, he’s just lacking knowledge after everything that has happened. It may not look like it but Steve really did like art.

Sure, he needs to take other classes that need brains—which he’s failing miserably at, but he can manage. There’s nothing he can’t manage apparently. And that’s exactly not a good thing.

He thought moving in with other people would bring a little bit of inspiration when he’s painting, and maybe help him get a grip on everything. He wasn’t expecting to feel like he’s living alone in a big place. Granted, he was following his own schedule—the schedule he’s been following ever since it happened, and he wouldn’t expect anyone to adjust for him. But when you don’t see the people you live with for more than a week, that’s not a coincidence.

But if he’s being honest. He couldn’t help but be a little bit relieved when he hardly sees anyone. In fact, he may have been avoiding them even if it wasn’t that obvious.

He wanted to get to know everyone, if you’re going to live with each other for a while, it’s the only reasonable option. And honestly, he’s looking forward to it, it’s what he needed anyway. But he couldn’t help but think that he won’t fit in. Ever since it happened, everyone’s way ahead of him, and he felt like he’ll never catch up.

He’s not the only one feeling like that though, but that person’s not there, and it seems like he won’t be for a while. It wasn’t really his fault he feels like he’ll never catch up with everyone when he’s all alone. A part of him keeps telling him that he should try, but another part of him was telling him he couldn’t.

At times, he’ll end up with Banner or Thor in the kitchen. He’ll think that it’s the perfect time to talk, to get to know them, but a small part of him was begging everyone to leave and ignore him. Most of the time Banner just leaves without a word, which Steve finds annoying and relieving at the same time.

Everyone’s far from him, but he could live with that.

Climbing back to his room, Steve glared at the finished painting perched on the middle of his bedroom and wondered if he should just throw it away. It looked worse than ever, it just felt so blank. Like it was telling an empty story.

Sighing, Steve turned and stared at the digital clock on his nightstand. He didn’t have any class that day, and he was feeling frustrated than ever. One thing he found rather calming when things like this happen, which happens a lot, was to cook.

Grabbing his wallet from his nightstand, he wondered if he had enough money to make spaghetti.

* * *

Steve mentally slapped himself when he saw the amount of spaghetti he ended up making. Maybe next time he shouldn’t get too distracted and end up using all of the ingredients. And here he thought he’ll be able to make the ingredients last for at least a few days.

Sighing, he placed the extra food on a Tupperware and left it in the fridge. It’s not milk, but its still food.

* * *

_You cook? You don’t look like you cook. Also, thanks, I’m getting tired with hotdogs—Clint_

“Hey, that looks nice.”

Steve turned and saw Peggy peering on his canvas. Steve furrowed his eyebrows and stared at his work. They were asked to paint anything that day, and Steve found himself making a simple piece: a man sitting crossed legged eating spaghetti while his whole surroundings were covered in different kinds of hotdogs (hotdog on a stick, mini hotdogs, footlongs, all kinds).

They were told to create anything that day, and for some reasons, Steve was brought back to the note he read that morning. And now he ended up painting Clint—or what he thought looks like Clint, for some reasons.

“Really?” Steve asked studying his half-finished painting. “I think it’s pretty childish.”

Peggy shrugged. “Well, yeah,” she said going back to her painting. “But it’s not empty anymore.”

Steve blinked at her before staring back at his painting. Tilting his head, he studied it. _It… wasn’t empty?_ His eyes roamed over the happy expression of the man eating the pasta as he blatantly ignores his surroundings.

_Huh…_

* * *

Steve stared at the pie he just made and groaned. 

It was fortunate enough that the kitchenette had an oven, but that doesn’t mean he’ll make excessive amounts of pies. Just because there was a news about a plane crash doesn’t mean he’ll bake at an ungodly hour and lose his concentration on the process. He’s not rich for heaven’s sake, he should be using his money wisely.

Huffing out a loud exhale, Steve placed the extra pie in a Tupperware and crammed it in the fridge.

As he fixed the kitchen, Steve’s eyes travelled back towards the fridge. His eyes stayed firm on the glossy exterior of the fridge and suddenly he found himself with a piece of paper in hand, a pen on the other, and the pen’s cap in between his teeth.

Steve slept with the image of the Tupperware and a note that says: _I made too much, go crazy_ etched on his mind.

* * *

_Tony, I barely slept a wink!—Clint_

_I BARELY MADE ANY NOISE.—PERSON SLEEPING AT THE FAR LEFT SIDE OF THE HALLWAY_

_Use earplugs, it really helps I swear.—Steve_

_AM I THE ONLY ONE NOT HEARING THIS NOISE?—THOR_

Steve blinked at his work as his professor smiled beside him.

“Rogers, right?”

Steve turned and stared at him before remembering to answer. “Yes.”

“I was expecting you’ll make another empty piece.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed. College professors don’t usually remember their students, considering that there’s a ton of them. Technically, they’re all strangers sharing a class.

He must’ve read Steve’s facial expression as the man answered Steve’s question, “You start remembering someone when they keep making the same work.”

Steve looked away and stared at his work as he felt his face turn red. It still wasn’t enough, but when everyone keeps remembering your works, he guessed the professor’s bound to know him at some point.

“Something good must’ve happened then,” The professor gestured at the painting and left before proceeding to check the other students.

Steve stared at his painting long and hard. That day, they were asked to create a small painting outlining the happenings at night, and now Steve was staring at his painting as if it held the answer to life. He hadn’t realized what it is he had been painting not until he was halfway done. It was like the old days, painting without stressing himself over an idea, painting as if it was as easy as breathing.

The image was simple, four rectangles that seem to represent a room with each residing a man. The first one was a man making a racket, the second was a man glaring at the wall of his room—directly at the man making the racket. While the last two rooms had the two men asleep.

It was simple, the painting was basically screaming what it means. And yet Steve stared dumbly at it.

_It’s not empty…_

_Huh…_

* * *

“Steve?”

Steve looked up and saw Thor beaming at him.

He blinked, suddenly lost of words. “Uh, hi?”

Don’t get him wrong, it wasn’t the first time he met Thor, and not that he was avoiding him—the guy was just really weird, he was just wasn’t expecting to see him outside where they live.

Okay, maybe he was avoiding him at some point.

“How fortunate it is to see you!” he boomed, causing for a few passing students to turn at them.

“Uh, yeah sure.” Steve did his best not to appear too keen to leave.

The last person he talked to was Natasha, that really weird girl—only girl—living with them, and it took him quite a while before he actually persuaded himself to thank her for finding his notebook. But whenever he’d look back at that short interaction, he couldn’t help but smother himself with his only pillow in his room.

Could he be more pathetic?

“The pasta you made was extraordinary!” Thor boomed again.

It took Steve a few seconds to register what the bigger guy had said. “Oh, right, yeah,” he scratched the back of his head. “Glad you liked it.”

Thor smiled and Steve wondered how his mouth was able to show all his teeth on one smile. Steve could practically see the gums sticking out. “I look forward to the next one,” He declared slapping a friendly hand on Steve’s shoulder before leaving. “See you around!”

Steve blinked and readjusted his messenger bag. He was halfway towards his next class when Thor’s words registered inside his head. Steve frantically turned around, as if he was expecting to see Thor’s blond head against the see of heads, his eyebrows raised. _Next one?_

* * *

_Right, next one._

Steve stared at the number of blueberry muffins he had just made that night and laughed. Other people complain about stress eating, Steve seems to do the other part a lot nowadays. And he had to admit that it's definitely complain-worthy.

As he placed the other muffins inside the fridge, not before sticking a note that says: _Made too much again_ on the side of the Tupperware, Steve found himself smiling.

He paused when he realized this.

* * *

_THAT’S IT. STEVE, CLINT, BOTH OF YOU ARE ON MY SHIT LIST—PERSON SLEEPING AT THE FAR LEFT SIDE OF THE HALLWAY_

_I apologized!—Steve_

_Like I care—Clint_

_WHAT IS THIS SHIT LIST?—THOR_

“What are you painting?”

Steve almost dropped the brush he was holding and was mentally scolding himself for being so jumpy, before turning around to face Peggy as she stared at his half-finished canvas. Twisting his sore shoulder a bit, Steve placed the brush down and leaned away from his work, giving Peggy more access.

“The usual,” Steve replied as he glared at the dark shades of the image he was creating.

Not that it wasn’t his fault, but Clint drank more than one carton of milk. And then suddenly, just because of one, Steve found himself on Tony’s bad side. These are one of the reasons why reasoning with a person you hardly know is useless.

Peggy squinted at Steve’s work, leaned in a bit then patted Steve on the back. “I don’t think so,” she said, a playful smile ghosting her lips.

Steve frowned before studying his painting again. It’s his typical empty abstract painting that carries empty stories and plain brush strokes, it held nothing.

“You’re just making fun of me,” Steve huffed, which earned him a chuckle from Peggy. How can someone so big act so cute?

“Well,” She said, readjusting the stool she was sitting on and gestured at the painting. “It seemed frustrated as if it did something and it’s in,” She paused, thinking of the right word to say. “discomfort”

Steve blinked, which he realized he has been doing a lot lately, and turned to look at Peggy before looking back at his painting.

Seeing Steve’s confused expression, Peggy sighed. “You know what, maybe I _was_ just seeing things.”

Steve’s frown deepened, only it resembled more like a pout. “That’s not really helping.”

Peggy laughed. “I never said I was,” she said before turning back to her own work.

Steve rolled his eyes—something people thought he couldn’t do or to act like a youth in general (“You’re a sixty-year-old man in a nineteen-year-old body” Bucky had once said), and went back to stare at his work. Only this time, he noticed what Peggy noticed.

_Huh…_

* * *

“Hey, Adonis, watch it!”

“Huh, what?”

There was a flurry of limbs and papers, mostly blueprints, and before Steve could register what happened, he was lying on his back beside a broken hoverboard and was staring back at a pair of very brown eyes. His messenger bag was digging at the uncomfortable portion of his back, and he was pretty sure he was lying underneath a once smooth blueprint.

“Oh, hey Stewart.”

_What?_

“Tony?” Steve asked. The number of times he had a conversation with Tony could be counted on one hand—two fingers actually. Though if the notes don’t count then he only had one. Steve realized it was pathetic.

The brunette clambered on his feet, leaving Steve on the ground who was still registering what just happened. He didn’t bother reaching out his hand to help him up, which was fine, no really, it was fine, but it was still rude. Steve tried to ignore the glances that were given to the both of them from the passing students and helped the brunette with his stuff. The guy might be rude, but Steve isn’t.

“Sorry,” Steve said.

“Hey, it’s not your fault you’re bigger than most humans,” The brunette said.

Steve wondered if that was a compliment or an insult.

Then his eyes landed on the broken hoverboard.

“Why were you riding a hoverboard?” Steve asked, staring at the broken machinery.

Tony snorted as if Steve had just said the most ridiculous thing a person could ask. “Walking’s for the weak,” he said. “Also, it helps me reach my classes, God I miss the time when Pepper wasn’t breathing down on my neck,” he added.

Steve didn’t know what to reply—for starters he doesn't know or care who Pepper was, instead, he just continued picking up the scattered papers.

“So, Stefan— ”

“It’s Steve actu—”

“Fine, Stephens then,—”

“No, it’s—”

“—good to see you around other than at, whatever it is we live in, maybe we could catch up sometimes!” He said, petting Steve on the shoulder. “Also, next time, try baking Pecan pies, I think I'm getting a craving.” The next moment, Steve was staring at Tony’s retreating figure.

“It’s Steve…” Steve muttered at no one in particular in the crowded hall. He was still wondering whether Tony was still angry with the milk situation—apparently he still was, with the conversation (does it even count as a conversation?) he just had with the other guy, when he suddenly registered Tony’s last words. “Pecan pie?”

* * *

_WHO OWNS THE PURPLE HEARING DEVICE IN THE BATHROOM? IT POSSESSED A TITLE THAT IS STARK, DOES ANYONE KNOW A PERSON ENTITLED STARK?—THOR_

_WAIT, YOU MEAN A HEARING AID?—PERSON SLEEPING AT THE FAR LEFT SIDE OF THE HALLWAY_

_It’s mine, leave it on the counter—Clint_

“Care to explain?”

Steve twisted from his seat and stared at his professor. A streak of yellow paint was on his left cheek, a few splotches of red, violet, and blue above his left eye and his hands were a mess of colors. For once, Steve wasn’t having a hard time painting something new, and he didn’t know whether to feel bad or not about that small fact.

That morning, he realized something. He doesn’t know them, any of them.

Yes, he’s fully aware that they don’t talk, they don’t call or text each other, heck they don’t even know each other’s phone number. But looking back at their conversations through their notes, it’s as if they’ve known each other long enough, and not the kind of people where when they see each other they immediately run the opposite direction.

As he stared at his painting, he realized he's been painting the things that had been happening around him. For the longest time, he felt as if nothing was happening, that his life was a never-ending routine, ending with empty paintings after empty paintings. But now, living in that small building doesn’t seem so sad anymore.

They still don’t know each other that much, but they’re still at the beginning, right? They still have time.

After so long, Steve believed he can still start again, like really start again.

“It’s a start of something new,” Steve answered.

The painting in question was of six people, talking to each other as if they were friends since birth, gathered around a table, but with each of them wearing a blindfold.

“I see, a start of something new,” his professor repeated with a nod, and Steve was pretty sure there was a smile somewhere.

* * *

_I made extra spaghetti again—Steve_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I have no idea how to write Thor and he's the one coming up next.
> 
> If you guys haven't noticed, I'm giving each character a chapter, something I thought was a great idea at first. then I realized I have no freaking idea how to write Thor Hahahahaha. so if I ended up writing Tony's POV next, don't be surprised. Though I really want to write Thor's, I just don't feel really confident.
> 
> Also, if any of have noticed, there are finally relationship tags! But, yeah, if you have any recommendations with what other good pairings to add, I don't mind adding them if I think it'll work. Don't worry guys, I don't bite.
> 
> Anyway, Comment and leave a Kudos!


	6. I was Home-Schooled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor just really want's to fit in.

“You know what, I have this—uh, thing, that I need to get back to,” the guy said as he hurriedly packed his stuff. “But it’s, uh, nice to meet you, Don.”

“Actually, my friend, it’s—” But the guy already left. “It’s, Thor.”

Thor glanced around the empty table and shrugged before going back to his meal.

A few moments ago, it was littered with students, and he thought why not as he dragged a chair and sat down next to them. At first, they were startled, which was fine. Everyone always had the same reaction around him. It’s always the same, so it didn’t really surprise him when they were suddenly thinning out, because it’s was how things would always turn out. Always.

He didn’t know how, his schedule hasn’t started being hectic yet, and yet every single one that he tried befriending ended up doing something urgent. But he wasn’t holding that on them, Loki was always busy as well. Only he was busy with something else Thor would rather not even remember.

Thor was trying.

He was trying really hard.

But nothing seems to be easy.

It felt so strange that just months ago he was always the center of attention, but with just one (ok maybe a few) mistakes, everything was suddenly gone. It’s like you’re on top of the world then after one wrong step, you’re now barrelling down the mountain, hitting rock bottom.

Everything was all too sudden.

But Thor was trying.

Coming from a _very,_ traditional household, then suddenly living in a two-story building with five other people was a huge step for Thor. It was weird and frustrating how different they do things, how they talk, eat, bathe, etc. It was like living in a new realm. He had so many questions about, _everything._

_Why do they have to put names on their food?_

_Is hitting someone in the head a sign of greeting?_ It wasn’t, he tried doing it—it didn’t turn out great.

_Is putting sticky notes on the fridge always a way of communicating?_

_Do other people not eat together even if they live under the same roof?_

_Is making friends always this hard_?

_And why isn’t he aware of all of this?_

Thor wanted to know, but he didn’t have anyone to answer.

After finishing all of his classes for the day, he didn’t return home—is that what he needs to call it? Instead, he walked around campus and tried making friends. It was easy to start a conversation, but it was hard to maintain it. It was like trying to hold water. After what felt like hours, Thor huffed and thought that maybe he’d try making friends tomorrow.

Tomorrow… He’s been saying that a lot.

As he started walking back home—? Thor remembered something as he paused and reached for his phone from his back pocket and long-pressed one. He stood there, at the side of the road, waiting for the other person to pick up. And like the hundred calls he made, he was sent straight to voicemail, it didn’t even ring. Thor sighed before trying again.

Again, it went to voicemail.

“Hey,” Thor said giving up. “I am aware that I had left a voicemail yesterday, nonetheless I really want to hear from you. I visited the other day—yesterday in fact—that is why I left a voicemail, but you won’t come out of your room. Did you even obtain my message?” His voice trailed a bit. “Anyway, I’m still trying to make friends, and remember Steve? The fair-haired one that’ was almost as vast as me? Apparently, he can rival mother’s cooking skills. I have eaten some of his food, well what Clint had left—you remember Clint? The other fair-haired man I mentioned, but tinier—and yet I have not managed to speak to him. But I am not losing hope, success is still visible in my vision.”

He continued to trudge down the road as he continued to speak through the phone. “Anyway, that’s about it,” He paused but was still walking. “I would really want to hear back from you. Oh, and if you deleted my number again, it’s me, Thor, your brother.”

Thor, for the longest time, believed that he could take everything. But he never really thought his father could be that creative and kick him out of the country. And maybe, he should have expected this, but what he wasn’t expecting was his younger brother, Loki, to be sent here as well.

He never found out why Loki wasn’t taking classes, or why he lived somewhere else than the building Thor was living in, but he promised not to ask questions and just finish this. Whatever this was.

Thor stopped walking and watched the passing cars before staring at his feet. What was he even doing here? He never found out why. Okay, fine, maybe he does know, but he couldn’t wrap his head why his father would go as far as send him here. And he’s not even sure what it is that he’s supposed to do.

“You should probably cross now.”

Thor turned and found himself staring at a small lady—well, everyone seemed smaller than him anyway, then glancing at the green light indicating that it was safe to cross the street. “Oh, of course,” he fumbled as he pockets his phone.

The lady smiled, and together, they crossed the street.

“You don’t have to answer,” she suddenly said and Thor turned to look at her. “But, whatever it is that you’re going through, you’ll get through it.”

Thor frowned, “Pardon?”

It was the lady’s turn to frown then blinked at an unnecessary amount of time, “Are you a foreigner?”

Thor smiled. “Indeed, I am,” he said as they reached the other side of the road.

For a moment, he thought she was going in a different direction, only to realize that they were going on the same path.

It suddenly registered in Thor’s head that he was talking to someone, to someone! He didn’t need to think of a conversation starter because he wasn’t the one to start the conversation in the first place, which was new and refreshing for some reason, and by the looks of it, she appeared to be of the same age as him.

At this point, he didn’t really care if they don’t go to the same university.

“Oh!” She smiled, “Okay, but you know, no one really talks like that anymore.”

Thor’s eyebrows furrowed, but not in a way that one would think that he was angry, he looked more of a kicked puppy, a kicked golden retriever, a kicked golden retriever that towers most human beings. “I have been receiving similar comments from others, but I cannot help it. I was taught to speak your language this way.”

The lady looked amused. “Weird school,” she muttered.

“I was home-schooled actually,” Thor replied as he went back to smiling.

She was talking and she wasn’t even trying to leave him alone, Thor couldn’t help but feel giddy.

She stared at him, her eyebrows furrowed but she was smiling as if she was looking at him like he’s an interesting species. “You know, I thought you weren’t capable of smiling, with that look that you have moments ago,” she said shrugging as she turned straight ahead. “For a moment, I thought you were planning to get hit by a truck or an RV or something,” she paused. “Then get tasered by one of the people riding it.” 

The last part was added as if it was just an unimportant afterthought, but Thor didn’t know that.

In response to the bizarre idea, Thor laughed. “That seems exciting,” he said.

She had that look again like Thor was an interesting specimen. “I was joking,” she laughed. “But, that must’ve been some kind of problem, to get you looking like that.”

Thor shrugged.

Sure, Loki had some problems, but to Thor, he’s not a problem. Sometimes, maybe, but he would never be a burden. “It was just my brother, he wouldn’t talk to me.”

“You two must be really close then,” She said.

Thor thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Not really, but we used to be.”

“How far back was this?”

Thor was about to open his mouth to say something when the lady suddenly frowned. Confused, Thor stopped walking and stared at her as she looked around. In just a few seconds, the lady sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I missed my stop,” she said with a chuckle.

“Oh,” Thor said and realized that he wasn’t that far anymore. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah,” She smiled and was about to turn around when she suddenly paused before looking back at him. “I’m Jane.”

Thor’s eyes grew wide, how stupid of him not to say his name when there was a lot of opportunities. “I’m Thor,” he said, but it sounded more of a declaration of war.

The lady’s eyebrows furrowed, but she was still smiling. “You serious?”

Thor shrugged. “I know, there was a period where I wanted to change my name to Donald Blake.”

Jane laughed and waved before she left.

If any from the people Thor was living with noticed the too wide smile he had plastered on his face, no one asked him or pointed it out. For starters they don’t really care, second they all think they’re not that close to having normal chit chats, and third, no one was really there to see it anyway.

* * *

Thor had this idea that when he finally succeeded in befriending someone, befriending others would be easy, like opening a door. Apparently, he should have listened to Loki more, even if most of what he says is practically insults. That morning, he met none of his fellow borders, and he was sitting alone at lunch, like any other day.

Befriending one person apparently isn’t going to change anything, for starters, Thor isn’t even sure if she goes to the same university. He stared at his phone and frowned a frown that could make babies cry as he stared at his contacts. The only thing in it was Loki’s.

Why is he always forgetting to ask, he had an open opportunity with the pretty lady yesterday.

* * *

_Tony, I barely slept a wink!—Clint_

_I BARELY MADE ANY NOISE.—PERSON SLEEPING AT THE FAR LEFT SIDE OF THE HALLWAY_

_Use earplugs, it really helps I swear.—Steve_

_AM I THE ONLY ONE NOT HEARING THIS NOISE?—THOR_

“I waited, in fact, I was what people describe as ‘geeking out’—did I use the term correctly? Nevertheless, I was excited. The whole day I daydreamed of the answers that will come forth to my question. Alas, when I came back, the refrigerator was bare and it holds no answers to my question.”

It had been weeks since he last moved, and yet he was still unsuccessful. Still alone in Lunch, and still feeling left out in each conversation with the notes. He had always been positive, but now, he could feel a twang of frustration settling on the pit of his stomach.

“—and in case you deleted my number again, it’s me, your brother.”

“You must’ve done something to make him delete your number again and again.”

Thor turned, almost dropping his phone—first and the only phone he ever had—and smiled as he saw Jane standing next to him. “Jane!” He exclaimed, and for a moment Jane thought he was going to engulf her in a hug.

It had been a few days since they first met, and Thor found himself hoping to see Jane in the same place they last, and first, saw each other. But, he guessed he hoped too much, that was why seeing her again at the same spot was a miracle to him.

“Hey, Thor,” she said. “Been a while, right?”

“Yes, indeed,” Thor replied with a broad smile. He couldn’t help it, he was so happy, even though he was feeling a little down, seeing Jane was perfect.

“That reminds me,” She reaches out her hand, “give me your phone.”

Thor did.

Jane looked a little stunned. “Really, just like that?”

“Did you not ask for it?” Thor asked, confused.

“I did, but no probing questions?” She said as she fiddled through his phone. “I could have just made a run for it with your phone.”

“But you wouldn’t.”

Jane looked up at Thor. “How are you so sure about that?”

Thor blinked, now that he thought about it. “But you wouldn’t, yes?”

Jane laughed and gave him back his phone. “Of course not,” she said before gesturing back at the phone that was now currently on Thor’s hand. “I placed my number there, in case you want to talk sometime. I realized it was a little stupid that we didn’t exchange last time when you told me that we’ll see each other around. I’m guessing you also go to SHIELD?”

Thor beamed before pocketing his phone. “Indeed I am! This is wonderful! I have finally made a friend!”

Other would have taken this as a sign and ask themselves if they just gave their number to a lunatic, but not Jane. Jane just laughed. “I’m glad then,” she smiled then gestured for the two of them to continue walking. “So, how’s it been?”

Thor thought back to his lonely lunch hours, the always busy students, Loki’s unresponsive behavior, and finally, the unanswered notes. That got him thinking at the weird place he was living in and the strangers that reside with him.

“How do you get others to notice you?” Thor asked.

Jane blinked, not really expecting the sudden kind of question. She just met the guy the other day, and this is literally the second time they talked. Then again, she did just gave him her number. “You interested in someone?”

Thor thought for a moment, of course, he was interested to befriend people, was that what she meant? “You can say that I’m interested in a lot of people.”

Jane blinked, this guy opens up way to fast. She never really met any people that are interested in polyamorous relationships, but there’s a first to everything. To say that she was intrigued with the guy was, well, the truth. “Wow, okay, I’m not really good at stuff like that.”

Thor frowned, she did really great with Thor—then again Thor would befriend even a cactus if he had no other choice. So hearing that she’s not really good with people was a little surprising. “Really? I think you’re pretty great at it.”

Jane was pretty sure she couldn’t flirt to save her life, but a compliment’s a compliment. “Okay, fine, forget it,” she said waving her hands. “So you’re asking me for tips, right?”

Thor nodded, “Yes, indeed.”

Jane did her best to hide her smile at the big Golden Retriever in front of her. “Hm, first is you need to act like seeing him or her—okay, them—doesn’t bother you _that_ much. Act interested, but not too interested, that’ll put them off, but not in a bad way.”

Thor’s eyebrows shot up. “Positive?”

Jane shrugged. “I don’t really know, but they say it works if you act like you’re not too desperate. Like, you know, talk to them, but make it quick and act like you’re just fine when you see them.”

* * *

_“Steve?”_

_“Uh, hi?”_

_“How fortunate it is to see you!”_

_“Uh, yeah sure.”_

_“The pasta you made was extraordinary!”_

_“Oh, right, yeah. Glad you liked it.”_

_“I look forward to the next one. See you around!”_

Thor liked to think that he did pretty well with his interaction with Steve. He didn’t act too interested right? He followed Jane’s tips positively accurate. Now if he could only find a way to communicate the other four tenants, he did try though, asking what this ‘Shit-List’ is that Tony was talking about. 

Sadly he didn’t get any response, _as usual._

* * *

Starting up a new day, Thor kept thinking about that sweet woman, Jane, wondering if he would see her again today. 

Maybe he should text her? He did have her number.

Entering the bathroom, Thor noticed a small purple device perched on top of the sink. Furrowing his eyebrows, he took and examined it. With further inspections, he realized that it was a hearing aid.

He was thinking any logical explanation why a hearing aid was on the bathroom sink when his too idle brain realized something. _Maybe this belonged to another tenant?!_ The idea of giving the object back to the person who owns it excites him, this could be his chance.

The only tenants that he was able to talk to was Bruce and Steve, and he was pretty sure none of them wears a hearing aid.

Thor enthusiastically took out a post-it paper, writing down a question of who owns the device before sticking it on the fridge. He intentionally kept the device so that he’ll have a chance to give it to the owner face-to-face. More likelihoods of making a friend. He’ll just hand whatever it is over and ask the person to be his new friend! What else could go wrong?

Apparently, his whole plan went wrong.

As soon as he got home—? He saw Clint’s post-it paper telling him to just place it on the counter. All expectation was immediately _gone_. He was really looking forward to handing it over himself, but if the owner wants it this way, then who is he to change it?

* * *

“It’s like he didn’t want to meet me, Jane,” Thor told the brunette beside him before taking a huge bite off his burger. Strange at it sounds, the street where they first met became their usual hang out spot. 

“Wait, you said it was a hearing aid, right?” Jane asked readjusting the sling bag on her shoulder as she tried to get comfortable sitting on the sidewalk.

“Certainly,” Thor replied without a beat.

“So, this Clint guy, is deaf?”

Thor opened his mouth to reply immediately, then paused. He never really thought about it, he was too eager to want to meet this other person it never occurred to him to wonder why he even owned a hearing aid in the first place. No wonder his brother calls him an idiot most of the time. “Yes, I guess,” Thor replied.

“You guess?” Jane repeated amused. “Haven’t it ever occurred to you that he might be embarrassed by it? Not that being disabled is a bad thing, but people are quite conscious when it’s about themselves.”

Jane’s words made him realize what he didn’t manage to notice, and when the words registered in his head, he realized that it didn’t sit well on the bottom of his stomach. “I need more advice.” Thor said gloomily “I have not made any improvements these past few days.”

Jane sighed.

She was never really good at giving advice, much less to a person interested in a polyamorous relationship. Plus, giving advice in a very public place is easier said than done, they should really start hanging out in a café or something.

“Are you really that desperate?” 

“Indeed I am! I am at the end of my tether!”

Jane sighed again. “Then give them gifts, like flowers or chocolates, show them you’re interested,” a pause “but do it one person at a time.” She could only imagine the horror if Thor asks all of them (whoever they are) out, it’s not really easy to start a polyamory relationship, especially in Thor’s state.

Thor stared at Jane. 

_This country has very weird traditions in making friends._ “Are you positive that this one will work?” 

Jane raised her hand as if to take an oath “Yes.” _I think_ , was left unheard.

* * *

Thor paced back and forth in the Living room, a hand full of handpicked flowers in his hand. He really wants this time to work, he got a whack on the head for these flowers and he would really want to have a worthy outcome. His original plan was to buy some in that flower shop down the block, but he realized he had spent most of his money on Pop Tarts.

Thor found himself a little angsty, which was new and he had concluded that it is a very uncomfortable feeling, he doesn’t like it. He left Loki another message that morning, which wasn’t answered until now (nothing new), telling him about his newest task. But even with the absence of his brother’s voice at the other end of the line, he could hear him laughing at him.

And when Loki laughs, it’s usually not a good sign. Well, it used not to, then that happened.

“You wooing someone?”

Thor turned and saw Clint standing by the door, obviously having just entered, who was looking at him. Well, he assumed it was Clint, given with the two purple hearing aids on each of his ears.

Thor’s brain short-circuited and he’s next actions wasn’t really something he’d like to repeat. He walked up to Clint and shoved the flowers towards the smaller man’s chest.

“Are we friends now?” Thor asked. He was still holding the flowers because Clint wasn’t grabbing it for some reasons.

Clint blinked, then looked down at the flowers shoved on his chest, then slowly looked up at Thor. “Are you high?” He asked.

Thor furrowed his eyebrows. “I think I would recognize if I am in midair,” he said.

Clint just stared at him.

“Are we friends now?” Thor repeated.

Clint didn’t say anything for a minute and to Thor, it felt like hours. “Is this about the hearing aids?” he asked, “because it’s fine, I’m not mad.”

Honestly, the hearing aids incident hasn’t really crossed Thor’s mind since that morning. But mentioning that seemed like a bad idea. “Ah, yes?”

Clint huffed out a laugh—Thor assumed it was a laugh. “Dude, chill, it’s fine. You don’t need to give me flowers, or whatever it is you do at your place to apologize.”

Thor blinked, his place? Isn’t this their way to befriend someone?

Clint smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “How about just give that to some lady that you like,” he said, then he was gone.

* * *

Thor thrusts up the flowers he was holding, some were wilted and was crusting on the edges, but it still looked fine. Maybe he should have passed that old lady’s garden again, but he didn’t really want another hit on the head. Her cane can rival a baseball bat.

Nimble fingers slowly grabbed the flowers. “Any occasions why you’re giving this to me?” Jane asked.

Honestly, his first choice was Natasha, after realizing that she wasn’t a ghost like how Tony seems to assume. But, he hasn’t seen her, or even caught just a glimpse of her yet. And he concluded that by the time he could give him the flowers, it’s already wilted up to its tips.

Then again he could buy, but Pop Tarts.

“Clint told me to give it to some girl that I like,” Thor said and Jane found herself fighting off a growing blush. 

“Huh?” Jane asked as she blinked hard.

“My first choice was lady Natasha, but I have not met her until now, and I have concluded that the flowers won’t stay pretty once I met her,” He said. “But you’re a lady, and I like you. So, do you like it?”

Jane fought of the embarrassment growing in her stomach, she’s talking to Thor for heaven’s sake. Of course, he didn’t mean it like that. She really needs to stop assuming.

“Oh,” She glanced down at the flowers before looking up. “I take it didn’t work?

Thor sighed, “Yes.”

Jane fought off the relieved smile finding its way up her mouth, she had realized that this particular advice was too straightforward when they haven’t even done any normal conversations. Thank god it didn’t work.

“Coffee then,” Jane stated.

“Coffee?”

“Have coffee with them,” Jane said. “To be honest, it’s usually the first step.”

* * *

“I, ugh, only take tea,” Bruce said as he surveyed the coffee Thor had given him.

Thor never liked coffee, they were bitter and he needed tons of milk and sugar before he could even bear the bitter taste. That was why the coffee he was giving Bruce resembles more like milk with a few drops of chocolate milk.

“But everyone takes them, yes?” Thor asked, the tips of his fingers raw. He found out that even boiling water he would still fail at it.

Bruce glanced down at the mug in his hands then looked up at the bigger man. “Do you like drinking them?” Bruce asked, smiling. Probably finding the situation funny.

Thor opened his mouth, then paused. “No, not really.”

Bruce huffed out a laugh. “Well, me neither. But thanks, it’s been a while.” He brought the mug to his lips and Thor held his breath. Bruce grimaced at the taste but immediately covered it with a smile as he noticed Thor looking at him with rapt attention. “Well, I think I’ll be meeting Diabetes soon,” Bruce said before taking another sip.

“Pardon?”

“It’s nothing,” Bruce said, “By the way, thanks for the coffee.” And he took another sip.

Then he was gone.

* * *

“I haven’t even started on my coffee yet,” Thor pouted, and by started, he meant that he hadn’t even picked a mug yet.

Jane tilted her head. That technique usually works, unless Thor’s never really good at handling conversations. “But you were able to grab some coffee, right?”

Well, Thor gave Bruce the mug, but he guessed that Bruce grabbing it from his hand counted. “Yes,” he moaned. Everything doesn’t seem to work. “But I told you, he had left immediately.”

Jane sighed, she was never really good at this.

“I suppose you’re finally out of ideas?” Thor asked.

Jane glanced at him and bit the inside of her cheeks. Thor looked like a kicked Golden Retriever and being able to look like that should be a crime against the law. “Well, I still have one last advice,” She said, “if it doesn’t work, I’m sorry.”

* * *

“Clint!”

Clint swears he didn’t jump three feet up the air when Thor’s booming voice greeted him as soon as he entered the building. He did not jump and scream, he just stood like a man that he is and greeted Thor.

“Dude, what the hell?” Clint exclaimed clutching his chest. “StarkAids are sensitive, you know that right?”

“Yes, pardon for the discomfort,” Thor said.

Thor didn’t actually know.

There was an awkward silence as the two of them fidgeted at their spot, Thor at the couch, and Clint standing looking like he would really want to be in his room. Which might actually be true.

“I’m just gonna—” Clint started.

“I’m new here and I have no idea what is it that I should do,” Thor immediately said before losing his chance, Clint immediately shut his mouth, his jaw clicking. “I tried everything and until now I have not been able to converse with anyone,” he paused. “Except for one, but she was the one to reach out, not me. I don’t know this place and I just really want to fit in.”

Clint just stood there, staring at the big blonde in front of him.

Thor waited, and it was the most excruciating thing he had ever done in his life. Jane had told him to be honest, and it seemed like a bad idea but he couldn’t really think of anything else. Did he mention that he was desperate?

“Wait, so the flowers were—” Clint started but trailed off before laughing.

Thor frowned. Clint was, _laughing?_ It’s not a bad sign then, right? But he couldn’t really help but feel a little conscious

“Wanna watch Walking Dead?” Clint suddenly asked, “I heard there’s a marathon going on.”

Thor had three questions in his head, _What’s Walking Dead? The dead does not walk. Is watching the dead another pass time here? And the dead does not walk, why would they even join a marathon? They’re dead!_

Instead, Thor said yes.

Grinning, Clint dropped his bag on the ground and grabbing the remote under one of the cushions before dropping down on the couch beside Thor. Well, there was a sizable space between them but Thor couldn’t really care. For some reasons, its working and he still couldn’t believe it.

Turned out, Walking Dead’s a television program about Zombies. Thor fell in love with the series immediately, even though he couldn’t really understand the plot most of the time.

“Is that season one?”

The two blonds immediately turned towards the sound and saw Tony standing by the open door.

“Yup,” Clint said, popping the ‘p’ sound before turning back to watch the series.

Thor stared at Tony as the brunette shrugged then proceeded to walk towards the two of them. He dropped his bag, and his… _hoverboard(?)_ beside’s Clint’s and made his way towards the space between Clint and Thor. “Scooch,” he said towards the two of them.

Thor blinked as Clint adjusted his seat and continued watching.

Thor blinked again.

The door opened and Thor found himself staring at a lady with red hair. She stared back at him then at Clint and Tony who was just staring at the TV, not bothering to greet her.

Thor opened his mouth to say something, but the lady (Thor assumed as Natasha) dropped her bag on the kitchen counter before dropping down on one of the armchairs.

Thor blinked.

Steve entered next, and Thor found himself staring at the other blond that was suddenly sitting on the floor, watching the start of the second season with rapt attention.

Thor blinked.

Bruce was the last to come, and he looked like he was going to drop dead any minute. But as soon as his eyes landed on the group of people huddled in front of the Television, Bruce snorted and made himself comfortable next to Steve on the floor.

* * *

_“Thor?”_ Jane said, her voice groggy.

“It worked!” Thor exclaimed like a teenage girl inside his room.

Tony had been the first one to leave, stating that he still had a date with his creations. After that, everyone just started leaving one by one. Thor didn’t blame them, it was near one in the morning when Tony left and it was already two in the morning by the time Steve bid goodnight and trudged up to his room.

Everything felt so surreal Thor pinched himself. Sure, they didn’t talk that much throughout the marathon, all the talking was mostly from him and Tony, but everyone was putting small remarks here and there. This was the very first big step that actually happened and Thor couldn’t stop smiling.

“Your advice! It worked!” Thor declared. “Not on just one person, but all of them! I owe you so much, Jane!”

There was silence on the other end, but Thor couldn’t really bother, he was still feeling giddy and everything. He couldn’t wait to tell Loki, even if he would probably ignore it.

 _“Oh,”_ Jane said. _It worked._

Somewhere, a few blocks away from Thor’s building, Jane stared at her bed sheets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exams just ended and even though I lost most of my brain cells, I'm still glad it's finally over. So, as a celebration, here's a new chapter.
> 
> In the end I may have enjoyed writing Thor a bit too much. He ended up having the longest chapter so far.
> 
> Kudos and comment!
> 
> Edit: okay, technically I didn't edit the chapter, because no matter how hard I try and correct wrong grammars or add missing words, they don't seem to disappear. So pardon for my grammatical errors.


	7. Note To Self

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sleep-deprived Tony, Captain America boxers, and what Tony believe as a new tradition brewing.

Tony stared at the bright screen of his phone as if staring at it long enough would make it stop flashing 6:47 a.m. and change it to 8:00 p.m. He was pretty sure it was still 8:00 p.m. five minutes ago, where the hell did all the time go?

Sighing, Tony threw his phone on his bed and wiped his grease-covered fingers on his pants. _Well, there goes another pair,_ he thought as he grabbed his ‘too small’ towel that was hanging at the back of his bedroom door. _Note to self: Buy a new towel_

He padded down the stairs, and as expected, he was greeted with an empty living room. Not that he was expecting for any of the other tenants to be there, but ever since that little marathon last night, (was it even last night? Or was it this morning? He was pretty sure he called it a night at about a quarter to eight, but he was never aware of time so who the fuck knows?) a very small—and disgustingly cringy—part of him was expecting for the place to change up a bit. But, of course, thing don’t change overnight.

Sitting on that couch with everyone, he realized that tomorrow morning they’ll go back to each other's own lives as if nothing had happened. And as Tony opened the shower knob, he realized that he preferred that. Maybe that small part of him didn’t want the monotonous routine anymore, but he can’t really see himself befriending any of these people.

Sure, he helped Clint, but it was mostly because he felt like a complete asshole and giving him a pair of hearing aids was his only way of apologizing. When he told Pepper about his situation with Clint, she flat out told him that he was such an ass and that she was glad she broke up with him.

“Gee, thanks for the support Pep,” Tony had said.

Pepper snorted at the other end of the line. _“I wasn’t trying to.”_

Pepper and Rhodey were the only people who knew about his inability to apologize, or to accept apologies. So, when Tony bugged Pepper at ass o’clock to grab him a pair of hearing aids because he couldn’t really stomach going back at the moment, she didn’t ask why and what for. She did throw a fit, but it was for the sake of making it seem normal, before telling him to wait for her after his last class. 

God, he loves Pepper. That’s why even when they broke up, he couldn’t let her go.

With only a towel covering the lower part of his body, he placed his dirty clothes on the counter and proceeded to rummage the fridge. That is if he hadn’t stayed rooted at his spot as he stared at the note plastered on it.

_Well, that was shitty, I really like that Sophie girl, no wonder I avoided watching that series. I could rent a film next time if you guys want to.—Clint_

Tony was barefooted, hair still dripping wet, dirty clothes thrown on the counter for the whole world to see, but all he did was stare at the note on the fridge.

Blinking for a few moments, Tony quickly grabbed his clothes from the counter and hastily went up to his room. Grabbing his phone on his bed, Tony called Pepper.

She answered on the fifth ring. _“This better be important because it’s too early to deal with nonsense.”_

“Should I say yes or no?” Tony asked.

There was silence at the other end of the line. _“If you don’t elaborate, I’m hanging up.”_

Maybe he should have called Rhodey instead.

And so, Tony explained the whole marathon situation. How after getting back from the university, he found Clint and that weird guy, Thor, watching The Walking Dead and how he thought that maybe watching with them wouldn’t be so bad. How he suddenly came aware that all six of them were suddenly crowding the living room. And how Clint left a note asking them about doing it again.

There was silence at the other end of the line and Tony wondered if Pepper ended up sleeping on him.

_“Let me get this straight, you’re asking me whether you should watch a movie with your housemates?”_

Tony blinked a couple of times. “Well, if you put it that way, it sounds stupid.”

Pepper made an audible frustrated sound that tells him that calling her was a bad idea. _“Bye Tony,”_ she hung up.

Tony stared gobsmacked at his phone, a little betrayed that Pepper left him like that. But, then again, he knew better than to wake her up at ass o’clock when he perfectly knew she wasn’t a morning person.

Knowing that Pepper won’t be of much help anymore, he took his post-it notes before heading out the door of his room, maybe he’ll know the answer when the question’s staring at his face. As soon as he turned the knob and pushed open the door, he immediately saw Steve just heading back to his room, probably just getting back from his early morning run, which was weird because according to Tony’s numerous all-nighter, Steve should have been back half an hour ago.

They stared at each other.

Tony raised his eyebrows at Steve as if asking a silent question as the other man just continued to stare at him. It wasn’t like this was the first time they saw each other after a very long time, he specifically remembered the blonde sitting on the floor last night (morning?) as they watch The Walking Dead. Then he registered the rapid reddening of Steve’s freakishly pale face.

Looking down, Tony remembered that he was wearing nothing but a very small towel. 

And he calls himself a genius. _Goddamnit_

Suddenly, a very uncomfortable feeling settled on the pit of his stomach, remembering that his scars were on display. And those were not pretty scars at all. Living alone (technically) for years turns out to be a pain in the ass when it comes to living with other people.

“Just to put it out there, I don’t prance around wearing just a towel.” Pretending like nothing was wrong was an easier way out, it never usully solves the problem, but it's still easier.

Steve blinked a couple more before nodding stiffly and disappearing in his bedroom, still red in the face.

Biting his lower lip, Tony closed his bedroom door and grabbed the first pair of clean clothes he laid his eyes on. _Note to self: Steve’s stupid morning run schedule can change._

* * *

Tony glared at the stupid kettle as it took forever to boil water before glaring at the mug he was holding with the contents of the cheapest coffee mix his shameful allowance can buy. _Note to self: Buy a water boiler and bribe Jarvis to give him a bigger allowance._

Tony frowned when he knew that the latter was like asking Howard to remember his birthday.

Tapping his fingers across the counter, Tony found himself staring at the note Clint left sticking on the fridge. So far, Steve, the American Adonis, was the only one to reply with a simple: _Sure— Steve._

Speaking of Steve, that guy hasn’t left his room ever since his last encounter with Tony a few minutes ago, in fact, none of the other borders haven’t even left their rooms. Not that they’ve been bumping to each other for the past month in normal circumstances, but Tony’s been standing in the kitchen for what felt like a whole hour and he hasn’t seen a strand of hair from the other five. Then again, he was just standing there for only a few minutes.

Okay, maybe they did stay up way later than 8:00 p.m. last night. Every one needs their beauty sleep, except for Tony. Tony don't sleep, sleep's for the weak.

Staring back at the stupid kettle, Tony wondered if he’s living with a bunch of hermits. Then again, he could stay locked up in his workshop without realizing he’s been in there for a month.

Glaring at the note again, Tony crossed his arms and stared at it as if staring at the piece of paper would give the answer to life’s greatest question.

“Uh, Morning.”

Tony turned and saw mister blonde and muscle standing by the stairs. Tony wondered how he looked like, must be stupid enough to make this hundred pounds of muscle stand awkwardly by the stairs. Steve, was holding a bundle of clothes and a towel hung on his shoulder, and it didn’t really help the situation.

“Did you just spent half an hour in your room covered in sweat without even showering?” In Tony’s defense, he couldn’t help but point it out.

Steve, who saw his scars, hisbig ugly scars, and all can Tony think was act like Steve saw nothing, or act like the scars never existed. Again, it's easier to ignore it. And ignoring is easier when you act like an ass.

Steve blinked before looking down at the stuff he’s holding. “I, uh, got distracted,” he winced before registering Tony’s words. “It wasn’t half an hour.”

Tony stared at him, then shrugged. It was obvious the guy needs a few lessons with lying, but Tony couldn’t really care. Steve’s business is his business. “There’s this thing called exaggeration, our generation tends to use that.”

Steve shuffled on his spot “Uh, yeah sure.”

“You know, there’s no one stopping you from using the bathroom,” Tony commented as the bigger guy continued to shuffle from his spot.

Just like that, Steve immediately padded towards the bathroom.

Tony went back to staring at the note Clint left on the fridge, when not a few moments after, Steve slowly walked out the bathroom, face redder than a tomato, glaring at Tony as if he somehow sung the national anthem wrong. Tony stared at Steve, now a little confused.

“Did I do something?” Tony asked.

Steve just shoved a pair of boxers at Tony, well more specifically, Tony’s boxers.

And like the sleep-deprived person that he is, Tony stared at _his_ boxers before registering the situation. “Hey, this is mine,” He said before grabbing it from Steve’s hold, then the situation registered even more.

For someone else seeing his underwear sprawled around isn’t something new, the strangers that frequently spends the night in his dorm room back at MIT could vouch for that. Used or not used, okay maybe you’d think he’s a slob or something, but it’s college, you’re supposed to be a slob. The Captain America prints on the boxers, however, is a different story.

Tony opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, so he closed it instead. And for once in his life, Tony actually felt his face flushing. He cleared his throat, suddenly wishing he had burned all of his Captain America memorabilia that he, for some reason, never grew out off. _Note to self: Buy a new set of underwear._

At the same moment, Natasha climbed down the stairs, a pink towel hung on one of her shoulders, and proceeded to make her way towards the bathroom, the two men oblivious at the newcomer.

“Right, sooooo…” Tony said. “Thanks?” He mentally winced.

Steve was still glaring, which was in no way Tony’s fault. Or to be more precise, it did not make sense whatsoever. It wasn’t _his_ underwear that Tony left sprawled in the bathroom for everyone to see.

“Why do I feel like a disgrace to Uncle Sam?” Tony asked.

“Maybe next time you shouldn’t leave used underwear lying around,” Steve replied sharply.

There were a few seconds of silence before Tony found himself laughing. “Oh my god,” he managed in between laughs. “I’m living with a prude!”

Steve looked affronted. “Excuse me?”

“Scared of a little underwear are we?” Tony teased. “Don’t worry, you might be an endangered species at this day of age, but I’m pretty sure cohabiting with one isn’t so hard.”

“It was disgusting,” Steve snapped. “Unhygienic, there’s nothing about it that suggests being a prude.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to your still tomato of a face,” Tony gestured at Steve. “Seriously, that is a talent, no one could stay red that long, you know that right?”

Steve’s jaw hardened. “At least I don’t own children’s underwear.”

Tony paused.

From the moment he first met Steve, he was pretty sure he knew what kind of guy he was. Morals and all. Definitely not expecting to face the guy that he was currently conversing with. Tony decided that he liked it, finally, something fun around here.

“You know, I think Captain really suits you,” Tony said, gesturing at his boxers. “Captain America, Rogers, I dunno but I’m pretty sure the Universe’s giving a very clear message.”

Tony gave smiled, not bothered at the fact that he was practically begging for war against someone twice his size. But this is Tony, life’s nothing when there’s no thrill in it.

Steve glared at him, his jaw clicking, before pivoting around and barging his way towards the bathroom. Tony shrugged, suddenly not all that embarrassed that he never grew out from his Captain America phase. Maybe he won’t hate living in this place after all.

Suddenly, there was a scream—how Steve made it sound so manly was forever a mystery—then the door to the bathroom flew open. Tony never thought that it would be possible, but he’s pretty sure Steve’s face was even redder than before as he slammed the door closed.

“Natasha,” Steve said, answering the amused expression Tony had schooled on his face.

Tony snorted. “There are two shower stalls in there.”

Steve just stared at him. “Natasha’s in there,” he said as if he was elaborating the world’s last hope for world peace.

“See, a prude,” Tony said smirking, completely forgetting the kettle on the stove.

* * *

After that, Tony seem to see Steve everywhere he went. Heading for his next class, he would somehow see Steve standing by the gate with his messenger bag. Visiting the library, Steve would somehow end up talking to the librarian. And the funny thing was: Steve's not even following him.

Tony isn’t stupid, he knows the difference between a routine and stalking. And with the look that Steve ended up having whenever they cross paths together proves Tony’s hypothesis. The hoverboard incident made some sense now. Though how he managed not to notice a walking supermodel like Steve was beyond him.

“Uh, can I sit here?”

Tony looked away from the piles of blueprint spread across the table and saw Bruce standing before him, carrying a number of papers that rivals Tony’s blueprints.

After weeks of sitting alone, and ignoring each other in, and out, of the University, it took Tony by surprise that one of the other five was actually talking to him, much less asking to spend their free period with him. For starters, he wasn’t even aware if he and the other five shares a free period.

Tony must have stayed silent longer than necessary because Bruce started to backtrack. “But it’s okay if not, I mean,” he gestured at Tony’s disorganized belongings that covers the whole table. “Yeah, sure, see you around.”

Bruce was just about to turn around as Tony gave his best not to roll his eyes. “I seriously have no idea how you survive around here,” Tony said as he pushed his stuff to make room for Bruce’s belongings. “Sit, god knows I need human company before I kill myself out of boredom.” He wasn’t really bored, but to Tony, it’s not a conversation when there’s no exaggeration.

“Thanks,” Bruce sat down across from Tony as he started to arrange his stuff, well, tried to.

Tony winced as Bruce produced a crumpled set of papers, and by the horrified look the other guy was giving, Bruce wasn’t expecting for said papers to meet its destruction from a very worn out bag that looks older than himself. The guy could do nothing but sigh.

“Well that’s heartbreaking,” Tony really tried, really, really tried. But his mouth seems to have a mind of its own.

Bruce sighed through his nose and deposited the rumpled set of papers at the table before glowering at it. “At least I can still read it,” he said somewhat defeated before diving back to chaos, which was his mess of a bag.

Three, four seconds passed. “So what course are you taking?”

Tony is not one of those people who try so hard to make small talks that end in disasters, he's usually the person that people tries to engage in small talks, but the guy looked like he’s about to face three board exams in three minutes at the same time. Tony’s pretty sure it’s illegal to look stressed like that at the first month of college.

“Huh? Oh, Biochemistry and Nuclear Physics,” Bruce replied as he continued to rummage inside his bag.

Tony blinked. “No wonder you look like you might drop dead any minute,” he mused. “You know, you just placed yourself in a death sentence, right?

Banner paused, and for a minute Tony wondered what he said wrong. It was a joke, it was obviously a joke, _please tell me I did not screw anything up._ Pepper did mention that he tends to acquire hatred from people after a few seconds of talking. He wonders why.

But then, Bruce gave him a small smile and shrugged. “Well, we’re just in the same boat,” he said gesturing at Tony’s blueprints. “Engineer?”

“Yup,” Tony said. “Electrical Engineering.”

Just then, Natasha sat next to Bruce, acting as if she had always been seating with them ever since and not for the first time. Tony blinked at her as she produced her phone from her pocket and engrossed herself with it.

Bruce, on the other hand, sat rather stiffly from his spot before glancing at Tony then back at Natasha and then looking back at Tony. “So, uh, is this a thing now?”

Natasha, not looking up from her phone, shrugged. “You started it,” she said. “I’m just too tired to search for a free table.”

“You know,” Tony almost dropped the pen he was holding. “When I left the note on the fridge, I was expecting answers from all of you, not just from Steve,” Clint said, biting down from the apple that he was holding as he sat next to Tony. “I just bumped into Thor a few minutes ago, he said he’ll watch whatever you guys want.”

Everyone just stared at him, except for Natasha who continued to stare at her phone.

“If I don’t get an answer in ten seconds, because hello, college student, I still have a class to catch, we’re watching Titanic.”

He was still trying to process what the hell was happening, but Tony found himself replying nonetheless. “I’m not gonna spend my entire evening sitting next to you if it’s not Back To The Future.”

Clint nodded. “Works for me, Bruce, Nat?”

Natasha snapped her head up at Clint and raised one of her perfectly trimmed eyebrows.

“Okay, let me rephrase that,” Clint said as he cleared his throat. “Bruce, _Natasha?_ ”

Seemingly contented, Natasha went back at staring at her phone. “Anything but the third installment,” she said.

Clint turned to look at Bruce. “Uh, yeah, sure, Back To The Future” his whole composure screams: _I have no idea what in the name of science is going on._

Clint clapped. “Awesome,” He said standing up. “Now where the hell is Steve.” And just like that, he was gone.

There were a few moments of silence when something beeped from Natasha’s phone and Tony found himself staring at her as she fixed her stuff. 

“See you around,” She said and left towards the opposite direction from where Clint had left.

Tony blinked, then slowly, a smile started to creep up his face. He had no idea what the hell just happened, but he can’t say he hated it. Turning back to Bruce, who still looked a little confused, Tony went back to their previous conversation as if the little shenanigan moments ago hadn’t happened. “So yeah, I’m actually taking my Master’s degree in Electrical Engineering.”

Bruce nodded, then there was a pregnant pause. “Wait, what?”

Tony bit back a snort. "And he's listening," He said and Bruce gave him a look that could rival a confused tourist. "I was joking, who the hell even takes a Master's degree at nineteen?"

Him, supposedly, but Howard decided that repeating his course is a better option. _Note to self: My father's crazy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONE MORE DAY AND IT'S HALLOWEEN YA'LL!!! *throws confetti* Even though we don't really celebrate it by trick or treating, instead we spend the whole day at our ancestor's graves, i still wanna celebrate because why not? 
> 
> Anyway, I am here to inform you that I might be updating at least twice a month until the end of 2018. *dodges rotten fruit*
> 
> Yeah, yeah. I know most of the writers here have jobs and they're still able to update weekly. And honestly, I can't really give you an excuse. It's just that, I write really, really slow. In a day, I'll only be able to write for an hour, which usually ends up consisting one paragraph, before giving up and deciding to continue it tomorrow. 
> 
> Then, add the thing that I'm a lazy highschool kid, and you have yourself a writer who decided not to write anything for the next few days.
> 
> I'm really, really sorry, but if it helps, my twin sister's giving me hell because of my laziness. Yeah, she also reads my story then insults it afterwards (she's supportive that way).
> 
> Anyway, Kudos and Comment! You have no idea how one click and one comment makes my day.
> 
> Edit: Yow, to those who already read this part, I may have forgotten to add a very important fact in this chapter and that I decided to change a few things because i did some research and I think taking Masters Degree works differently, so it would really be nice if you'll reread it.


	8. The Peephole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha still likes to people watch, but she may be getting a little rusty with reading other people

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeeeeey.... *fidgets*
> 
> Remember when I said I'll only be able to update twice a month then suddenly not updating the whole month? Yeah, about that... I'm sorry?
> 
> Last month had been one hell of a month, I swear. I never knew school was capable with dumping us with a shit ton of school works. Just looking at it makes my head spin, and I never like doing anything so yeah, it was torture. Again, so sorry for the mega late update.

It was because of Clint.

Doesn’t it always?

Unlike the previous night, sitting with the others to watch the film Clint borrowed was as awkward as ever. And Natasha found herself looking at four men that would rather touch each other with a five-foot pole than sit on the same couch. The ridiculous space between them was an obvious indication.

Clint, bless him, stayed oblivious as he glared at the DVD player that he was trying to set up. Natasha blinked at the mechanism and concluded that no technology that old should even be on Clint’s hands, it deserves to be in a museum. Glancing at Tony, she registered the disgusted expression on his face as he eyed the device.

Bruce was reading a book, and Steve was sitting stiffly on the middle of the coach who was failing miserably as he tried to relax. Thor was trying to start a conversation, which was also failing miserably. If she wasn’t there, Natasha would have never thought that they were able to spend a whole evening together.

“Lady Tasha!” Thor boomed as he caught sight of the redhead standing by the door. “Welcome back!”

Natasha raised a brow at the nickname. No one has the right to call her other than her real name, even Fury. And these people, calling her like they were something more than acquaintance, is… _supposed to be_ pissing her off.

Clint whipped his head towards her direction and waved, a manual in hand ( _How does that thing still have a manual?_ ) before looking back at Thor. “She doesn’t like nicknames,” he supplied as the others greeted her, Bruce with a sheepish wave and Steve with simple “hey.” Tony seemed to be more interested at glaring at the DVD player.

“I liked that one,” Natasha interrupted before Thor could even say anything. She made her way towards the fridge and grabbed one of her supplies of apples before shrugging her bag on the kitchen counter. “But never call me that again, ever,” she added.

Thor blinked, and looked genuinely confused rather than afraid. The knowledge of it doesn’t sit well on Natasha.

Taking her eyes of Thor, she glanced around the living room and bit on her apple. “If you’re all going to sit like statues for the rest of the evening, I’m going to call it a night.”

Five heads whipped towards her direction.

She wanted to ask them why the surprised expressions, it was obvious that Steve, Bruce, and Tony were just too scared to tell them that they wanted to just head back to their rooms, rather than give this bonding thing another try when they don’t even know how to act around each other. Sure the previous experience was great, even Natasha admits that he found it fun and wanted to do it again, but it was obvious that everyone was walking on eggshells.

She wouldn’t have agreed if she didn’t enjoy it, but the fact that she was going to have to spend the whole evening with five strangers seem to be more prominent now.

Thor had this face that Natasha didn’t like, not one bit. She decided not to upset Thor in the future because she didn’t like the look on his face, at all.

“Hey man, I get it, but I did not spend an hour understanding this thing if you’re all going to bail in the end,” Clint said.

Natasha noted that like Thor, Clint was trying to give this thing a go, whatever it is this thing is. Natasha bit on her apple, her expression still impassive.

Out of them, Tony and Clint were the hardest to read. And it’s not like she was even trying to read everyone, it was just one of the things she does automatically. She doesn’t understand the fact that Clint was trying so hard, he doesn’t seem so interested in the first few weeks. The sudden fixation threw her off.

And she didn’t like it when she doesn’t know anything.

Clint’s commentary about the DVD player finally snapped Tony away from his glaring competition from the poor piece of tech. “Can we just throw that thing away?” he suddenly said, causing for the blond next to him to flinch. Natasha noted the awkward way Steve tried to move further away from Tony. “It’s outdated, and worst of all, it’s a Hammer tech.”

Thor frowned. “Hammer?” He asked.

No one noticed, well, except for Natasha.

“Why are you so against Hammer Tech?” Bruce asked, closing his book. “It’s the second leading brand in technology right?”

“That’s exactly the problem, it’s the second, no one should settle on just the second best,” Tony fumed. “And also, the CEO’s son’s a dick.”

Natasha allowed herself to furrow her eyebrows. She didn’t like the situation, and that’s because she didn’t know what just happened. One minute they were all sitting awkwardly around each other, and now she could sense a banter between Hammer Tech and Stark Tech.

“Justin Hammer?” Steve asked hesitantly. “I can’t see the connection with watching the film and Justin Hammer.”

“My point exactly!” Clint crowed. “It’s not like you know the guy.”

Tony opened his mouth to retort, but all that came out was a strained sound. Biting back on her apple, Natasha wondered how long Tony could keep this Tony Smith act.

Then she realized something, “Point?”

Clint turned to Natasha as and gestured at Tony. “The asshole over here wouldn’t stop insulting my DVD player for the past two hours, I just got him to shut up three minutes ago. Apparently, that didn’t last long.”

“That was the disputation?” Thor asked. “I remember arriving with the two of you fighting about milk.”

“Which was also totally Steve’s fault!” Clint exclaimed.

Steve sat up, if possible, more rigidly than before, looking alarmed. “That happened ones.” He defended.

Bruce sighed and turned to Thor. “It _was_ the subject of the argument, you know, the Justin Hammer part, then it kinda snowballed from there.”

Natasha stood silently as the others continued to talk over each other. Apparently, she was wrong, the silence previously was because of an entirely different reason. Usually, when she’s wrong she hated it, and yet at the moment, though hating the fact that she had concluded was wrong, she still had to bite back the smile threatening to worms its way out.

By the time Natasha had decided that staying for the film was not a bad idea, the argument between Tony and Clint had changed drastically.

“And I specifically said that if we’re not watching Back To The Future, then I’m not watching at all,” Tony fumed.

Clint turned sharply towards Tony and pointed an accusing finger. “And I told you a hundred times that I don’t give a fuck if you ain’t watching tonight!”

Tony huffed but he wasn’t showing any indication of leaving.

Natasha stared at the juvenile banter as she made herself comfortable next to Bruce—who was sitting on an armchair… for one. Natasha decided that the red color creeping up Bruce’s neck was a good look on him, therefore she decided to ignore it.

“A lady shouldn’t sit on the floor,” Natasha whispered as Bruce gave a jerky nod behind the book he was buried in. Natasha smirked before turning back to the two man-child fighting about the current TV situation. “Mind telling me the movie, considering that it’s been changed.”

“Some stupid horror film called The Echo,” Tony grumbled. “God, I mess Netflix.”

“It’s not my fault every nerd out there decided that watching Back to The Future at Friday night is an awesome thing to do,” Clint shot as he continued to fumble around the DVD player. “Hey, the manual here says red cord, all I can see is pink.”

Tony ignored the latter comment, “Well you could have chosen something more iconic, like Star Wars, not some dumb remake film.”

Natasha glanced at Bruce who was obviously not reading the book that he was holding, considering that he hadn’t changed the page for the last five minutes, and noted the small quirks of his mouth as the banter between the other two continued on, then at Steve who was looking more uncomfortable by the second. Thor was still trying to start a conversation with Steve, completely oblivious that the other man was trying his best not to engage in small talk.

Natasha’s brows furrowed. She tilted her head and studied Steve, then glanced around the room before settling her eyes back at him. Apparently, one of them would still rather spend the evening alone in their room.

It’s not her position to meddle, but her therapist did advise her to get herself involved. Okay, maybe he meant a different kind of involved, but he should take this as a win, considering that she had made it her life mission never to accept any of his advice.

Leaning back—with Bruce getting notably rigid, Natasha found herself with a project in mind.

Steve suddenly stood up. “I’ll make some popcorn.”

* * *

“The ghost actually followed her? I thought ghosts are supposed to stay at the placed they’re supposed to be haunting,” Clint asked from the floor as he shoved a fistful of popcorn to his mouth. “En shi dos’t ven lib der.”

Tony snatched the bowl of popcorn from Clint and placed it on his lap. “No one cares,” he said. “And swallow before you start talking.” Tony added hissing.

Natasha glanced at Thor who was out like a light, Steve who was half way there but was obviously trying his best to stay awake, Bruce who was eagerly watching the film with rapt attention, then at Tony and Clint who were still fighting, now over pointless things.

“—And that is why we need a peephole in this place,” Clint declared after listing of reasons that were all taken from the film that they were watching.

“God, shut up already,” Tony hissed. “If you want to put a peephole on the door, then put one.”

“I have classes, idiot,” Clint retorted. “I can’t make time just to put a peephole on the front door. And besides, I’m not the carpenter in this building who keeps everyone awake building junk.”

Natasha swore Tony’s nose flared. “I am not a carpenter, I’m a mechanic you dick.”

“What’s the difference?”

Natasha sighed and tried to focus on the film, on which she was rapidly losing interest, and not because the plot was uninteresting.

“How, in all things holy, did you even reach college?”

Then someone knocked.

Thor jerked awake and the others snapped their heads towards the door, except for Natasha who was more interested at the fact that Thor was woken up by a knock. She was starting to think that even when World War III was raging on, he’ll just sleep right through it. Apparently she’s wrong, and she hates being wrong.

“Aye, my valiant ally,” He slurred.

Tony gave him a weird look. “What the hell were you dreaming?”

“Shut up,” Clint hissed, glaring at the door as if it killed his mother.

“Is anyone expecting company?” Bruce asked.

Everyone glanced at each other, when all eyes ended up on Natasha. She raised one of her eyebrows threateningly. “What?” She asked.

“Well, you’re a girl,” Tony started, “And girls like to socialize, you know, read magazines, sleepover—”

“I don’t have friends,” She answered not amused by the stereotyping.

“Okay,” Tony squeaked quickly, which was funny considering who he was, before jerking his head back towards the door.

She turned to Thor who was looking at her sympathetically, which caused her to shove off the sudden urge to roll her eyes, and at Clint who was looking at her with a blank expression before glaring back at the door. Natasha decided to pointedly not look at Bruce, not wanting whatever it is that he schooled his face with, and glared at Steve who was about to say something to her.

Steve snapped his mouth shut immediately.

“I told you we need a peephole,” Clint hissed.

“Why don’t you do the old fashion way and open the door to see who it is,” Tony retorted.

Clint glared at him and Natasha fought down the urge to leave and proceed to her room, she had just concluded that the four walls of it were better company. “We’re watching a horror film, I ain’t going to answer the damn door. They usually die first.”

Natasha blinked. “Seriously?” she deadpan.

“Oh for the love of all things—”

“It’s you’re brilliant idea anyway, you open the door.” Clint said and Tony gave have a incredulous look.

“Fine,” Tony answered as he turned to look at Steve. “Steve, open the door and check the asshole knocking on the other side.”

It was Steve’s turn to blink, “Uh, what?”

“Oh, right, magic word,” Tony said when Steve had obviously failed to comply him. “Steve, would you please open the door and see who’s the asshole at the other side?”

Steve blinked a few times, and Natasha was halfway from volunteering herself to show how much of a coward the men in this building where, when Thor bounded from his seat, suddenly fully awake, and ran towards the door.

“I’ll open it!” He called.

Natasha shrugged, finally glad that one of the thousand disagreement between Tony and Clint was put to a stop. “Problem solved,” she muttered, which every one still heard (except for Thor of course), before grabbing the bowl of pop corn from Tony.

“Huh,” Clint said. “I guess there are times the buff one in the group dies first, ironic right?”

“No one cares, Barton” Tony said.

“Oooh, last name, so scary Smith.”

Natasha noticed the small smirk Tony had on his face and she actually had to stop herself from doing the same thing. The thought that Tony thinks he had his own joke that he could only understand, the joke being no one knowing who he is when his name is the leading brand all over the globe, and yet Natasha also knew about it without him knowing entertains her in a cynical way.

She likes it when she’s right.

“It’s pizza!” Thor called.

Everyone frowned and turned to the door, and truth to be told, a pizza delivery boy was standing outside the door holding a two boxes of pizza.

Tony glanced around. “We didn’t order—”

“Oh shoot, I forgot about that,” Steve suddenly said jolting out from his position from the sofa.

Natasha’s eyebrows were slowly raising from its original position.

“You… ordered pizza?” Bruce asked.

Steve was at the counter by that point, rummaging inside his bag. “Yeah, I mean I thought it was a good idea. I mean, the popcorn wasn’t that much so yeah, pizza,” he said without glancing up from his bag, as if he was purposely not trying to make eye contact. “Dang it, I can’t find my wallet.”

Natasha was never a fan of showing emotions, but at the moment her eyebrows must have disappeared from her hairline already. Maybe she’s wrong again. Maybe Steve didn’t want to stay in his room tonight. But the previous events says otherwise.

Natasha really hates it when she’s wrong.

“Hey,” She called at the pizza delivery boy, which he didn’t hear, hence for the heavy arm pat Thor gave him.

He jumped which Thor, bless the oblivious idiot, didn’t notice when the kid was obviously intimidated by him.

“How much for the pizzas?” Natasha asked as she purposely ignored Steve’s eyes boring on her. He did it first, she couldn’t see why she can’t do it too.

“Twenty-four dollars ma’am,” The boy answered.

Nodding, Natasha grabbed her wallet from her jeans. “Everyone, contribute four dollars.” Then she turned to Thor and called “Hey big guy, pay your part for the pizza, it’s four dollars.”

Thor, bless the big guy, even though obviously not knowing the situation, jogged to grab his bag, living the poor boy outside holding the stack of pizzas.

Clint groaned, but nonetheless, grabbed his wallet.

Tony shrugged and reached for his. “I’ll pay for Cap’s part, considering that his memories can rival my dads’, who couldn’t remember that he left me at the park,” (Natasha noted that bit of information, even when it seemed like a joke) he said before turning to Steve, “You can pay me later.”

Steve opened his mouth, then closed it, before opening it again. “Cap?”

“It’s short for Captain.”

Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed for a second, but didn’t ask.

Clint on the other hand, “The fuck is Captain for?”

To Natasha’s surprise, Bruce answered it, “His last name is Rogers.”

_Makes sense._

“I did not understand it,” Thor said as Natasha gave him the combined dollars before adding his onto the pile.

Steve just stared from his position next to his bag and blinked as Thor payed for the pizzas. Natasha hates it when she’s wrong, so she’s going to do something that she likes.

“WHY IS THE OTHER PIZZA HAWAIIAN?”

“I like pineapples.”

“No, no, no, Steve you’re an embarrassment, I take back my good deed, pay up, now. God, you’re worse than Clint.”

“Hey, don’t fucking include me, I’m eating here.”

“What’s wrong with pineapples?”

* * *

“How was your day?”

Natasha continued to stare at the weird painting hanging behind her therapist. It wasn’t famous, but staring at it was way better than looking at him.

He sighed and scribbled something on his clipboard. “Have you joined any extracurricular activities?”

Natasha didn’t answer.

“How are the living arrangements so far?”

“Clint won’t shut up about a peephole.”

And it was true, it’s been almost a week since the movie night and Clint has grown a rather unhealthy fixation about peepholes, he even got Thor convinced that it was a necessity. Natasha was never there to hear any of his complaints, but the notes on the fridge was enough.

At this the therapist paused. “Clint? One of your housemates I’m guessing.”

“Obviously.”

“You haven’t bothered to tell me who these are, may I know?”

Natasha narrowed her eyes but answered nonetheless. “There’s Tony, Clint, Thor, Bruce, and Steve who I think needs therapy sessions more than I do.”

He scribbled something on his clipboard before pausing, then looked at her with concerned eyes. “I noticed that these are all men,” he said and Natasha had to fight down the urge to roll her eyes.

She crossed her legs and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Do you feel uncomfortable living with them?”

Natasha didn’t bother to answer the question. Should she remind him that it wasn’t just men that got her in this mess that was called her life? It was all of them. The reason why she needs to sit ones a week in some god awful room to talk about feelings weren’t caused by _just men_. Everyone needs to stop acting like they understand her situation.

The therapist sighed and moved on. “You mentioned something about this Steve needing more help.”

It’s not that Steve needs to have sessions like hers, in her opinion therapy’s a stupid waste of time and money, but the guy is weird. As if he won’t get a grasp on what’s going on, like he can’t catch up or something. 

“Yeah”

“Why do you think so?”

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “Cause I think so.”

The therapist sighed and wrote something down.

* * *

Natasha raised an eyebrow from her place on the couch when Clint entered the building with a scream of victory. Tony, who was making himself some coffee by the kitchen, stared at him as if he’s got an alien parasite leeching on his back.

Clint dropped whatever it is he was holding on the counter and smiled smugly at Tony. “Got your stupid Back To The Future.”

Tony blinked, “I think I’m missing something.”

Clint frowned at him. “I got you stupid Back To The Future that you’ve been bitching about,” he said. “So now, it’s your turn to put a peephole on the door.”

Tony snapped his head at Clint and pointed an accusing finger. “I. Am. Not. A. Carpenter!”

Natasha sighed and stood up from her seat and walked towards the two bickering housewives. “Boys,” she said grabbing the CD on the counter. “Either fix your shit, or we’re watching without you two.”

“That’s far from a threat,” Tony scoffed.

“Oh no,” Natasha grinned. “You won’t be spending your time in you room, the two of you’ll be outside in the dark for the rest of the night.”

It was Clint’s turn to scoff. “Yeah, right.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow and glared as she played with the casing of the CD. “Try me.”

That must have caught their attention because the looks on their faces immediately slid off. The next moment, Natasha was staring at two blinking owls rather than the two housewives.

“I’ll fetch the others and tell them it’s another movie night,” She said before leaving.

Before she could leave though, she grinned when she heard Tony’s words. “That woman can be scary as hell.”

* * *

“Hey, where’s Bruce?”

Thor looked around before turning back to Natasha, “I believe he’s not back yet.”

“No shit Sherlock,” Tony replied as he fumbled with the DVD player that he brought, insisting that if they use Clint’s monstrosity again he’ll commit suicide. “We seriously need a smart TV, is the owner even aware about Netflix?” He added as he jammed the cable a little too harshly.

“Hey, I know you’re pissed, but I think The Time Traveler’s Wife is also a good film,” Clint said weakly from the couch. “It got Rachel McAdams as one of the leads, you know, the bitch in Mean Girls.”

Natasha couldn’t hold off the smirk. “You’ve watched Mean Girls?”

Clint ignored her, which was fine, the redness of his neck was enough.

“It’s not Back To The Future!” Tony retorted. “Before renting a film, check the disk if it’s the correct one.”

“I knew the guy!” Clint protested. “I didn’t know he was going to rip me off.”

Steve was fumbling with his phone when he decided to look up. “So, no Hawaiians?” He asked.

“NO!” Clint and Tony answered.

No one was expecting what happened next. In retrospect, it was kinda impossible to even think about it in the first place.

There was a loud crack and a bloodied fist went _through_ the closed door. Everyone jumped and held their breathes as the fist retracted, and after a few seconds, the door was kicked open, breaking the knob in the process, sending a deafening bang when it slammed on the wall.

Bruce stood by the threshold, with a bloody fist covered in splinters, his whole frame shaking all over Natasha could see it from where she was standing, looking like hell.

Clint’s eyes were wide with shock, but Natasha wanted to kick him straight on his jewels when he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Tony, I think Bruce solved the peephole problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun duuuuuuuuun.
> 
> If no one got it, Bruce Hulked out. One of you asked if they still had their powers, and I answered with that they have but they don't, well I hope you kinda understand that part now. And yeah, the plot just started.
> 
> Anyway, I just turned a year older last... few weeks Hahahaha! I kinda hoped that'll mellow down the furry of my late update. I mean, birthdays, you should enjoy it before it becomes something you'll hate to even think about.
> 
> Shout out to [Ninjafan1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninjafan1/pseuds/Ninjafan1), the person who asked me the question.


	9. Somewhere In-Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce exploded and Steve is back to Still Painting

_“I know everyone’s been having the time of their lives as I let you all paint with your own styles. And I only did that because I want to see all of your potentials.” He paused and scratched the back of his neck. “That may have backfired a bit because there’s a ton of you, and I can’t keep track. But, anyway, I’m here to tell you that it’s going to stop now. Don’t worry, I hate it as much as you all do, but welcome to ‘Still Life’.”_

“According to one of the seniors, ‘Still Life’ would be the most boring thing you’ll ever encounter,” Peggy complained, her thick English accent seeping out, as they skimmed the shelves for different types of drawing pencils. “Imagine drawing nothing but bananas and apples for months.”

Steve shrugged and grabbed a few pencils off the shelf. He’s not sure if it’s a good brand, he hasn't done any research, but it’s the cheapest so far and his wallet isn’t having the time of its life after spending too much on food. “I don’t know, it’s been a while since I last used a pencil as a medium. I’m kinda looking forward to it.”

Peggy turned to him and stared incredulously. “Steve, we’ll be moving from pencils to charcoals, to pastels and then we’ll move to paints, and we would still be drawing apples and bananas.”

Steve paused before shrugging. “Well, we did sign up for this.”

Peggy groaned as before scanning the shelves herself and grabbing a, to Steve’s opinion, better brand, and much more above Steve’s budget. “Why do I even hang out with you?”

“Because I’m an awkward person and you’re kind enough to pity me,” Steve answered as they made their way towards the cashier.

Peggy sighed. “You have got to stop doing that,” she said. “You know, I don’t get you sometimes, you’re not that awkward bloke that keeps to himself every class and tries to act small when it’s physically impossible,” She gestured at Steve and his massive frame. “Try reaching for other people, and not wait for them to reach for you—like what I did—and maybe you’ll find out that you’re not awkward,” she said. “or friendless,” she added.

“Hey, I _have _friends” Steve countered.__

Peggy looked around, searching. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know there were other Peggys.”

Steve snorted. “Contrary to popular belief, you’re not my only friend. How did you think I survived my childhood?”

“Sulking alone in your room, working out, like a crazy person,” she answered as the cashier punched-in their purchases. “You know, botched and all.”

“My life isn’t _that_ depressing,” Steve countered as he fished out a couple of bills to pay for their art supplies, “And I had friends, one even stayed with me until now, his name’s Bucky and—”

“He’s currently not in a great place, I know, ” she said as they both strolled out the shop. “The point is, if you don’t know me, then who would go shopping with you?” Peggy rambled, her hands flailing. “Let loose a little, try interacting with other people. You’re like an old man stuck in a younger body.”

Steve sighed. “You’ll get along with be Bucky,” he said. “He used to tell me the same thing.”

Peggy snapped and pointed a finger at him. “See, even your childhood friend’s saying that. And you know I have other friends, right? Not that I don’t like hanging out with you, but—why are we stopping at the grocery store?”

Steve suddenly looked sheepish. “Sorry, I was just going to grab a few stuff. You can go home if you want to.”

Peggy stared at Steve, who was shuffling on his spot, before hitching up her bag. “Nope, I’m fine. I wanna tag along.”

Steve grinned as they entered the grocery store.

Ever since Clint told him about the plans for the movie night, Steve found himself feeling giddy of another night with the other six. He found himself counting down the days until Friday with a dorky smile on his face. He was still awkward around them, yes, but this was what he wanted.

He hasn’t had the chance to apologize to Tony about the incident that morning after the first time they all spent together in front of the television, and he realized that this movie night he’ll finally have the chance. It wasn’t like he wasn’t trying for the past week, the guy wasn’t that hard to find considering that their schedule seems to overlap all the time, but Steve knew when a person is trying to avoid him.

Okay, he admits that he may have been a little bit rude, but Tony was even worse. Who even leaves their dirty underwear lying around for everyone to see? And he wasn’t a prude, not even close. _Right?_

But the annoying voice inside his head keeps telling him that maybe it wasn’t because of the bathroom incident. The ugly huge scars that cover most of Tony’s chest suddenly flashed inside Steve’s mind. He sighed.

It didn’t register at first, having been more distracted with the fact that had Tony stood in front of him almost naked—and what great timing it was because Steve was, _is_ , having a sexuality crisis—but by the fourth time he had tried to talk to Tony at school—and that was a huge step for him—he finally realized that Tony’s avoidance might not be because of the underwear. It had to be the scars. Bucky wouldn’t even stay in the same room as Steve for a whole month because of his arm, and until now he still refused to go outside.

Tonight would be his chance to apologize and actually get his social life going, and maybe it’ll help him forget for a little while. He really wants to get it off without anything bad happening.

“Why are you looking at those popcorn packets as if you’re going to decide whether to launch the atomic bomb or something?”

Steve snapped his head towards Peggy as she gestured at the two popcorn packets he was holding. “Oh, I was just trying to decide which one’s better.”

Peggy furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t think you’ve noticed it yet, but they’re currently seeds.” She glanced back at the two packets before looking back at Steve. “You have to cook it first.”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know which brand is better. I mean they’re both cheap, but there’s cheap with good quality and cheap with awful qualities.”

Peggy stared at him even more. “You weren’t this thorough when we were buying pencils,” she said.

“I was,” Steve countered. “You were just too busy complaining about ‘Still Art’.”

“Then just buy what you usually buy.”

Steve paused. “I don’t really like them that much,” he said. “So I don’t have a usual.”

Peggy stared at him incredulously. “Then why are you buying them in the first place?”

“There’s this movie night that we’re trying, the place where I stay, and I thought that snacks wouldn’t hurt.” He didn’t really ‘thought’ of it, he actually planned it.

“Then buy both,” she said, as if it was the most obvious solution. Which, in retrospect, really is.

“But what if they grew tired of it? Eating nothing but the same food could be tiresome.”

Peggy’s mouth hung open. “It’s popcorn,” She said seriously. “You know what, how about just buy some crisps.”

Steve’s brow furrowed. “Crisps?”

“Crisps,” Peggy repeated. When Steve just stared at her, Peggy sighed and grabbed a bag of chips at the shelf that was facing the shelf of popcorn. “Crisps,” She said holding the bag out.

“Oh, potato chips!” Steve said.

“It’s the same thing.”

“Clint always eats chips, he might get tired with this easily.”

“You know what, just order some pizza,” Peggy finally said, throwing the bag of chips back at the shelf with its family. “Pizza’s great, especially Hawaiian, I dunno why people hates it.”

Steve nodded, noting it down, before staring back at the two packets he was still holding. “I still don’t know which of this two should I buy.”

Peggy threw her hands up. “I thought you were buying pizza instead?”

“Well, pizza and popcorn sounds good for a movie night.”

“Steve it’s a movie night, not a well-planned sleepover by elementary school girls.”

The grocery store started blasting of some song that Steve wasn’t aware off, some upbeat music that seemed like the thing that would get a lot of attention, and Peggy’s attention was stirred. There was a a three second pause before Peggy visibly slumped.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she groaned.

Steve found himself furrowing his eyebrows before looking around, looking for anything that could have soured the brunette’s mood. “Did I do something?”

“Unless you’re the one behind today’s music choice,” She said. "Then yes."

“Music?” Steve asked confused then listened at the up beat music playing from the speakers. “It’s not that bad.”

Peggy rolled her eyes “Yeah sure, that’s why it’s been played over and over again for months after it got released last year,” she grunted as she skimmed the shelves. “The song went so viral, it got so annoying.”

Steve shuffled a bit from where he was standing, holding the two popcorn packets awkwardly. “Ugh, yeah.”

Peggy turned to look at him, she must have caught Steve’s awkward reaction towards the situation because her eyebrows slowly rose up. “You have no idea what I’m talking about do you?”

Steve sighed, his shoulder slumping. “Well, I know, but I’m not really familiar with the song.”

“You’ve never heard of it?”

Steve paused, deciding whether to answer honestly or not. “No.”

Peggy stared at him, as if Steve was some sort of man out of time, or a Norse god that got sent down to Earth. Though, Steve guessed that none of the reactions fit for the two given situations were remotely similar to the look Peggy was giving him. “Sorry, but which part in Brooklyn did you mention you live again?”

Steve bit his lip, suddenly wanting to end the conversation, as he threw one of the packets that he was holding on the cart. “In a small house,” he answered as he started pushing his cart.

“Does electricity exist in that house?” Peggy asked falling in step next to him. “How about internet connection? Or was the house situated at the top of a mountain because you could only be a hermit if you’ve never heard of this song.”

Steve shrugged, they were too close to the topic that he’s been avoiding ever since he woke up in the hospital, and he wasn’t liking it one bit. “I guess I just missed it.”

* * *

Steve ran down the familiar path that he usually took every morning, thinking back towards the movie night that had last night. It went well, considering that Clint and Tony was there. Would have been better if the two wasn’t arguing about everything every five minutes. One of the reasons why he wasn’t even able to apologize.

Or maybe he’s just too pathetic.

And after that stupid attempt to get himself involved, he hadn’t bothered to try again.

_“I don’t think Hammer Tech’s that bad,” Steve injected as the volume of Clint and Tony’s voice continued to intensify._

_Tony turned to him sharply. “Not bad?” He repeated aghast? “Are you telling me that the phones they distributed last year was_ not _bad?”_

_Steve blinked. “What?”_

_“In case you haven’t noticed, this is not a phone, nor was it bought last year,” Clint exclaimed at Tony._

_Tony turned back sharply at Clint, pointing an accusing finger at the DVD player. “This doesn’t change the fact that is a Hammer Tech!”_

_Steve brain was still on the phone-distributed-last-year part, so he turned to Bruce and asked: “Last year?”_

_Bruce blinked at him before furrowing his eyebrows. “You know, the ones the exploded,” he supplied._

_Steve bit his lip, he should probably start consulting the internet, but he haven’t had the chance—or maybe he’s really just avoiding it. For some reasons, it always reminds him of that incident, that it happened and that’s the reason why he’s in the internet scrolling through news that happened long ago._

_“Can you explain it to me?”_

_Tony, for some weird reasons, heard him and immediately stopped his banter with Barton as he looked back at Steve. Steve was seriously starting to wonder if Tony’s neck immune to whiplash. “Explain what?”_

_Steve blinked. “The, uh, exploding phones?”_

_“Dude, you’re kidding right?” Clint said._

_“Uh,” Steve’s eyes went through the other people in the room who were looking at him with weird expressions. “No?”_

_“It’s the biggest scandal last year,” Tony exclaimed. “So big, I can’t believe that crap of a business was still standing.”_

_“Well, they did claim that they were infiltrated by rival companies that sabotaged the first release.” Bruce said._

_“Which is total bull!” Tony exclaimed before turning to Steve, again. “And I cannot believe you’ve not heard of it, it’s the best news I’ve heard in years! Do you live in the fucking moon?”_

_Steve glanced down at his hands and shrugged. “I guessed I just missed it.”_

It was an obvious reminder that he’s so far away from others, at some days he feels like it’s not a big deal, but most of the time he can’t help but feel like that. It was stupid, and Steve hates it. The only helpful thing that came out last night was the fact that he should never order Hawaiian Pizzas again.

Before he knew it, Steve was back at Building A and was opening the front door. He made a beeline towards the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, finishing it off immediately. He was about to throw the now empty bottle only to find Natasha standing in front of him.

“Golly geez!” Steve exclaimed, dropping the bottle. “What are you standing there for?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow and cocked her head slightly to the right. “As far as I’ve known there’s only one fridge and you’re standing in front of it.”

“Oh, right, I, umm, sorry.” Steve replied sheepishly as he edged away from the fridge for Natasha. Suddenly conscious about the time, Steve looked over his wrist watch and found that it's still too early for any of the classes to start. And for some odd reasons, the thought made him strike up a question—considering that Natasha’s the kind of person you would rather not ask anything—Steve wondered why he had the sudden guts to do it.

“Isn’t it too early for classes?”

As if not hearing the question, Natasha closed the fridge an apple in hand before staring right at him, “I don’t have classes today,” She replied flatly, but the way her eyes stare at him tells differently, as if daring him to ask her for an honest answer. And Steve, well Steve would rather not ask because of two reasons 1.) Natasha looks like a person who would hit you in the most vulnerable parts (physically) and 2.) Steve is a person who would not want to be hit on his vulnerable parts.

“Oh, uhh, okay, good luck on your apple.” He mentally faced palm his face.

Natasha only stared at him before taking a bite from the said fruit.

Thinking that the conversation was over, Steve was about to take a step back when Natasha spoke “Thor’s fun to talk with, you should try sometime.”

Steve basically lost the plot by this part, when did Thor became a subject of the conversation? Apparently just now. “Uhh what?”

“Thor openly wants to reach out, unlike you guys who would still rather walk on eggshells.” She spoke as if giving a class presentation. “You should start with Thor, he’s more or less just like you.”

Steve wanted to ask how Thor is just like him, or why is Natasha telling him this as if she knows something that he doesn’t, but what he ask was the subject that nags at him the most. “Eggshells?”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. "It’s a figure of speech.”

“No, yeah, of course I know that.” This time Steve physically scratched his nape out of embarrassment. “W-why, I mean, walking on eggshells? Do you think I’m secretly trying to reach out on everyone?”

Steve knew it’s not suppose to be a question.

Because if it’s not a question, then it’s the truth.

“Are you trying to to reach out on everyone?” She replied cocking her head at the right.

He stuffed his hands in pockets, Steve knew this move, he watched it in some kind of movie before. Natasha is trying to play safe. “Do you know something?”

“Am I suppose to know something?” With that, she bit on her apple and left.

Steve stared at her retreating form, asking himself _Am I missing something?_

* * *

It was a free period and Steve, having no idea what just happened, sighed his way out of the building. The professor from his Graphic Design was young, and he can’t seem to stop from using different references in any form of media. And he couldn’t do anything but sit there and act like he just understood everything.

He felt out of place (as always) not knowing something while everyone seemed to know everything. 

That feeling when you feel like you’ve timed travel into the future and everything you once knew had changed, and now you’re stuck in that timeline that no matter how hard you try to keep up it felt as if you’re falling backwards instead. That’s basically Steve’s life, everyday.

Steve was suddenly pulled out from his thoughts when he heard someone calling his name. Snapping his head towards the voice, he saw Clint waving his hand at Steve. Spending his free time always alone suddenly felt depressing and someone asking him to come over made him… _giddy_. Hesitantly, he walked towards Clint while readjusting his messenger bag.

Along the way, he noticed Tony and Bruce also with Clint on the table.

“You guys hang out now?” Was the first thing he said and just thinking about it, it sounded like he’s jealous. Steve wanted to slam his head on the table right then and there.

“If hanging out means people invading your privacy, then yes, we’re hanging out.” Tony replied way too seriously that Steve was starting to wonder if it was just a joke or not.

“It sorta just happened,” Bruce said, sounding more like a question than an answer.

Clint on the other hand just patted—though it looks more like slapping—the empty chair beside him. “You can sit with me.”

“Yes, go ahead and invite everyone,” Tony said dryly. “It’s not like I sat here to do anything,” he gestured at the table stacked with blueprint.

“Oh I’m sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt your starring competition with Casper the friendly ghost.” Clint snapped. And for once, Steve get that, though it went over his head a little.

“I get that reference.” He said a bit too proud, earning him two pairs of eyes while Tony rolls his. “I-I-I’ll just take a sit.” He added, his voice going weak.

As soon as Steve sat his butt down on the chair, Clint immediately fished out his phone. Tony peered at it and instantly frowned. “Really? Even your—”

“If you say one more thing about Hammer tech, you’ll find an arrow shoved up your ass.” Clint threatened while clicking an icon that looks like a ball divided into a red and white color. “It’s the only thing I can buy, alright.”

“I was supposed to say ‘Even your games are shit’, but yeah Hammer Tech’s shit so I guess that wins.”

Clint frowned before glancing down on his phone. “I’m starting to think that anything about me is shit.”

Tony patted him on the shoulder. “Now you’re getting it,” he said. “And also because you’re a Hammer Tech user.”

Steve peered down on the game, something he wasn’t familiar with, but it looked newly released because, well, he wasn’t familiar with it. “What’s wrong with it?” Steve asked. “You know, the game.”

“It’s some shit that got so popular last two years ago,then lost it’s popularity the same year because it’s literally shit. Even I can create something much cooler than that,” Tony explained before frowning. He stared at Steve with a pinched look. “Did you grow up without electricity, because it’s the only reason I can think off why you’re not aware with a lot of shit.”

Steve blinked, too much to be considered as normal, before dropping his gaze to study his nails. “I guess I just missed it.”

Clint shrugged, going back to his game. “You missed a hell lot of things.”

Bruce, having not said anything for the last five minutes, stared at Steve, his brows furrowed.

* * *

“Bruce,” Steve said tentatively as he slowly stood from the couch, everyone following suit. “You okay?”

Bruce’s head twitched to the side, his eyes not meeting anyone, and his breathing was ragged. If the broken door wasn’t enough evidence, then the manic look Bruce was sporting was more than enough that the guy was definitely not having a good day. After seeing all Bucky after the incident, and not leaving his side every time he so much as twitch, Steve knows what an episode is when he sees one.

“Bruce,” Natasha said, which seem to snap the guy’s attention.

Bruce glanced at the door—the hole he created to be more specific—and closed his eyes, as if trying to block something. “I—I’m… sorry about the a—the a, the door. I’ll, I’ll fix—yeah, I’ll just fix it.”

Steve took careful steps towards Bruce, who was starting to shake from head to toe. “You okay buddy?”

Finally, Bruce looked him in the eye, and Steve realized that Bruce could be scary if he wants to be. “I’m fine,” he gritted out.

“It’s just that—”

“I SAID I’M FINE!” Bruce screamed, taking three angry steps forward.

Everyone flinched back, except for Natasha who was looking at him with a calculating look. “Dude,” Clint started, but thought better of it and decided not to finish whatever it is that he’s about to say.

Bruce must have noticed his sudden change of reaction, because he visibly tried to tone down and started taking deep long breathes. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. “I’m just, bathroom… yeah, bathroom.” He dropped his bag, and proceeded to go to the bathroom.

Everyone was standing still, their eyes still locked on the closed bathroom door. Then Natasha suddenly turned and left as she climbed up to the second floor.

Steve was apparently missing something.

“Hey, where the hell are you going?” Tony hissed.

He was ignored.

“I don’t think it is wise to leave friend Bruce alone” Thor said.

“I dunno bro,” Clint said hesitantly. “I think the guy needs some space.”

“We gave my brother some space and—”

There was a crash, that sounds like glass braking, and Steve immediately found himself knocking on the bathroom door. “Bruce,” another knock. “Bruce, are you alright!”

He didn’t reply.

The last time he also gave Bucky some space, he found himself waiting outside an ER as the doctors tried to save Bucky’s life. There was a loud crunch that sounded exactly like fist hitting a broken mirror. And Steve didn’t bother thinking after that, he stepped back and threw all his weight at the closed door.

 _Two broken doors in one night, this isn’t so bad._ He thought as the bathroom door broke of it’s hinges.

“Bruce—” He didn’t get to finish his sentence because Bruce swung his fist straight to his face.

Steve stumbled back, his right eye burning from the hit as he tasted blood, though he was pretty sure it wasn’t his blood. For a guy like Bruce, he could really pack a punch. Steve’ could vaguely hear Clint cursing from the background.

Steve was only standing because most of his weight was being supported by the bathroom wall next to the door, but he did his best to get a hold on Bruce—which was harder than to be expected.

“Bruce calm down,” Steve said, grunting. Bruce’s bloody fist managed to hit him on the stomach, and Steve was starting to wonder where he takes his energy from this kind of body.

He didn’t notice, but the next thing he knew, Thor was helping him with the task. Which was scary and brilliant at the same time. Thor was bigger, therefor he would be more effective. But, it’s Bruce that they’re stopping, not a WWE wrestler, and it’s terrifying to think that even with the both of them, they’re still having a hard time to contain him.

Bruce continued to thrash, it surprises Steve for a guy so small can turn this place upside down if angry.

“Calm down my friend,” Thor tried to reason but Bruce only smashed his head backwards hitting Thor square on the face. Impressively, Thor’s hold didn’t budge. “Ouch, that hurts.” He said, not at all even hurt.

“Get him under the sink.” Natasha suddenly ordered, Steve didn’t tried to question how she got here. Tony on the other hand whipped his head towards Natasha then back at the others, his face obviously screaming ‘When the hell did she get here?’.

Thor on the other hand questioned her command. “What? Why so?”

“Just do it.” She replied sounding less and less patient.

Thor stared at Steve and nodded, with great effort they placed Bruce under the sink having their faces punched and ribs elbowed. He could hear Clint’s comment on how that’ll leave a mark in the morning and Tony’s audible unnecessary wince.

After successfully putting Bruce under the sink, Natasha immediately pulled out a handcuff and locked Bruce’s right hand on a metal pipe under the sink. Both Steve and Thor let go of Bruce and watched him trash on the floor, trying to free himself while he pulls on his wrist until it turns red. 

Steve didn’t like what he saw.

“You know what, I’m not even gonna ask.” Tony commented while staring at Natasha’s handcuffs.

“The feeling’s not mutual,” Clint told Tony before turning to face everyone. “What the hell was that?”

“Episode?” Steve said remembering Bucky.

“What season are we?” All eyes landed on Clint, “What? I was just trying to lighten up the mood.”

Tony raised his hands as if surrendering. “Well I’m outta here.” He announced slowly backing away, Clint grabbed him by the left arm, and yanked him back in the room.

“You ain’t going anywhere.” 

“The guy’s practically still boiling, considering he just exploded,” Tony informed extending his other free arm, referring to Bruce who was still pulling his arm and punching the sink in the process. “Why don’t we just give him space until he cools down.” Steve knew it wasn’t a question.

“The last time my brother had done something such as this, I found myself waiting by the ER.” Thor told Tony crossing his arms over his chest, Steve stiffened from the familiarity of his story. Thor’s sudden demeanor changed, he doesn’t seem to look like the innocent happy go lucky huge blond guy they always encounter. He seems more serious and matured.

The thought that Thor had experienced a similar occasion in both of their lives made Steve wonder that maybe: he’s not so faraway after all. That maybe: there’s people just as far as him.

“Yeah,” Steve said, remembering Bucky, “The last thing Bruce needs is being alone, especially after what he’d done to the mirror.”

Everyone knew what he meant by that. Broken glasses were scattered across the floor, and if Bruce doesn’t seem to look like he’ll do suicide, self harm does.

Natasha only shrugged before taking a sit on the floor, everyone stared at here but followed her action after seconds passed. They all sat there, trying not to watch how Bruce struggled.

“It’s not like he needs everyone to look after him.” Tony commented after taking a sit, surprisingly, beside Steve. “I mean we could take turns.”

“Even Steve and Thor combined, they still had a hard time calming Bruce,” Natasha informed in a flat voice. “If it’s your turn and Bruce got out of his chains, who knows what will happen. Wanna test it out ? I have a key.”

“Is hiding from everyone your solution to situations like this?” Clint asked.

Tony shrugged, “It’s how I deal with everything.”

Steve found himself looking at Tony, well with his one good eye considering that the eye that received Bruce’s mean punch started to swell. Maybe, they’re actually more people like him than he thought. “I’m not an asshole, stop looking at me like that,” Tony said when he caught Steve looking.

“No, I—” Steve said, but faltered. “Nevermind.”

They stayed like that, waiting for Bruce to calm down. But he never calmed down, in fact, they suddenly noticed that the small noises he was making were whimpers. Turning to look at him, they saw that Bruce was finally seated on the floor while his other bloody hand covers his face.

“Shit,” Clint cursed. “Bruce, you back now buddy? We can take the—”

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said, cutting Clint off as he tries to hide his face even more from everyone. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeatedly whimpered. “I’ll pay, I promise I’ll pay, then I’ll—I’ll move out. I’m sorry—shit, I’m really sorry.”

“Hey, hey, hey, whoa!” Tony suddenly exclaimed. “No one told you to move out, no one’s moving out.”

“I wrecked the bathroom.”

“You broke the mirror,” Tony countered, then paused to have a short look around the room, “And also the wall behind it, but hey, silver lining, at least we can have the peephole that Clint’s been wanting." He pointed at the front door.

Bruce winced, Tony definitely did not made things better, Natasha only rolled her eyes.

“You don’t understand.” Bruce’s voice was shaking. “This won’t just happen once.”

“I understand,” Steve suddenly voiced out, earning all eyes on him, he suddenly wants to shut up and hide but there was a nagging feeling that he needs to elaborate. “My friend, Bucky, he also have episodes like this.” 

“You have a friend?” Clint asked dubiously.

Tony slowly turned to face him. “That’s what you get from that?”

“Look, these stuff, i-i-it happens, usually way worse than this,” Bruce pleaded, as if explaining how messed up he is would let him move out, and by the looks of it, none of them where having it. “I-I’m— I-I-I’m not—”

“I pick pockets for a living,” Clint nonchalantly informed all of them, earning all eyes on him. “Well no, I used to work in a circus for a living,” He corrected raising his index finger, as if reminiscing. “I only pick pockets for extra cash.”

Tony slowly tried checking for his wallet. 

“Used to.” Clint specifically glared at Tony. 

“I-I don’t—” Bruce started but Clint beat him to it.

“If your reason to leave is just because you’re not normal, then I’m gonna start packing my bags,” Clint explained in a shrug, Steve only stared at him, he didn’t have enough time to grasp the situation when Tony spoke.

“Well I’m semi-disowned, so might as well join you.” 

Thor’s face scrunched up, “Semi-disowned?”

“Well I gotta say something that’s not normal,” Tony explained. “That’s the whole point.”

Steve almost laughed, _almost_. The heavy atmosphere makes laughing seems so offensive.

“Well I’m Russian,” Natasha supplied.

“Are you really that much of a racist to your own race?” Tony questioned.

“At least I’m not _semi_ -disowned.” She countered, Clint snorted but unsuccessfully hid it behind a cough.

“Oh, so you where joking, ha ha, very funny,” Tony said annoyed as he rolled his eyes, involuntarily getting way too close at Steve. His breath hitched, _What is wrong with me? This is not a great time to think about Tony and his towel._

“I was so full of myself that I did not know what was going on,” Thor supplied which earned a couple of questionable faces because, this is Thor, the guy that had a hard time making friends was full of himself? Steve had a hard time believing it.

The ball was already on Steve’s court, and he found himself internally panicking, what was he suppose to say? That he was hospitalized? That seams reasonable, but before he could open his mouth, Bruce had taken the ball from him and spoke in a deep emotionless voice, and having his face covered in blood while his fist looked beyond murdered, the hair on his back stood up.

“I killed my dad.”

Silence.

“Well,” Tony suddenly announced clapping his hands together. “I’ll be in my room.” He added finally standing up but Clint grabbed hold of his arm and yanked him back, again.

“No you’re not.”

“You still think I’m like you guys?” Bruce asked staring at Steve, but he knew the question was for all of them.

 _In more ways than one_. Steve thought. “Well there must be a reason.” He said instead, trying to reach out on Bruce, desperate rather.

“I was angry,” Bruce replied “I was angry when I killed him, I was angry just like earlier,” as if to say he could kill one of them if something like this happens again.

“Well then there must be a reason why you’re angry then,” Natasha said nonchalantly adjusting on her sit.

Bruce was silent, but his breathing was ragged, it’s like all of his pent up energy’s finally gone and he was left with nothing but emptiness. “What are you, my therapist?” He asked Natasha, to Steve’s surprised, in a mocking voice. “Who are you guys for me to tell you? We just live in the same building, we’re not friends, we’re nothing but strangers.”

There was another wave of silence, and Thor looked like he was punched on the gut.

Natasha stared at him blankly before crossing her arms over her chest and leaned back. “I know that Tony’s course is Electrical Engineering and has the habit of tinkering loudly in his room, he also have this weird hatred for Hammer Tech. I know that Thor has an unhealthy liking for Pop Tarts and that he’s very easy to please because he seems to be interested in about everything.” Natasha narrated. “Clint’s deaf and likes archery, also can be an annoying asshole like Tony, and can’t seem to afford a single Stark Tech. I know that Steve has a notebook filled with his drawings and has a liking on cooking. And I,” She straightened her sitting position. “Am the Mysterious Lady that everyone kept on calling as a ghost for the first few weeks, I always seem to be out of the house and looks to know a lot more than any of you do, and I also seems to hold grudges against nicknames.”

Steve wondered, everyone already know this, why does she need to narrate it? And by the looks of everyone in this room, they all seem to have the same question.

“Is there something that I’ve said that you didn’t know?” Natasha questioned Bruce dead in the eye.

“I-I don’t— What are you—” He stuttered.

“Yes Bruce, we’re not friends but we’re also not strangers,” she told Bruce, but the way she expresses it, it feels like the message was for everyone in this room. “We’re something in-between.”

“So we’re acquaintances,” Clint whispered earning him an elbow to the ribs by Tony.

“Shut up.” He gritted.

Another wave of silence enveloped the room, and finally, Bruce wasn’t angry, nor sad, he was just back to being Bruce. Something in Natasha’s message had send them something, hope? Possibility? No one really knew.

_I think I missed something._

“He killed my mother by smashing her head on the floor.” Bruce told them but not in spite, not by anger, but as if he was finally breaking down a few of his walls. “Ten years later, I bashed his head on her grave.”

No one has to talk, no one has to comment, everyone knew that this kind of silence was needed.

Until Tony stood up, Clint was about to pull him down again but Tony took a closer step at Bruce, as if what had happened earlier didn’t scare him. Steve was surprised why Tony wasn’t scared of Bruce when everyone seems to be.

Tony crouched down in front of Bruce and smiled. “You seem like a man of science, why don’t we do some of that? And the day after, and the day after that and so on and so forth.” He said patting Bruce on the shoulder, Bruce only stared at him, startled by Tony’s actions. “How’s that sounds?” 

“I-I-I don’t get—”

“But first we have to get you to a hospital.” He told Bruce taking a short glance at his murdered knuckles. “Hey Natasha, keys, now.”

Natasha, being the only person to suddenly get what was happening, only rolled her eyes but threw the keys at Tony which he effortlessly caught.

Steve watched as Tony unlocked Bruce. Steve watched as Clint called for a taxi to take Bruce at the hospital. Steve watched as Thor searches for the first aid kit. Steve watched as Natasha tries to cover Bruce’s bleeding hand. And Steve, Steve sat besides Bruce for comfort.

* * *

The next morning, after having another long jog, Steve entered the usual empty building that he currently lives in. No one was there as usual, to his dismay, even no matter how big the event that happened last night. It’s not like things will change between all of then in an instant. They’re not yet friends after all.

_We’re something in-between._

Making a beeline towards the fridge, he was suppose to grab a bottle of water but froze on his spot when he noticed a sticky note attached on the fridge.

_Thanks —Bruce_

Steve definitely didn’t missed this one.

Later that evening, Bruce’s note disappeared, replaced by Natasha’s.

_I’m keeping the note—Natasha_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!! Happy 2019!!! It's hard to say Happy New Years instead because I'm almost a week late.
> 
> So, remember the time where I mentioned that I'll be posting twice a month, turns out it actually meant I'll be posting twice a month at most. But you did notice that I try to update monthly, I try not to leave a month unattended, except maybe for the month of November.
> 
> Anyway, special thanks to [FierceHurricane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FierceHurricane/pseuds/FierceHurricane) for educating me about college life because I'm a high school kid and know next to shit about college, and [talkativefangirl13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkativefangirl13/pseuds/talkativefangirl13), my twin sister, for helping me finish this chapter because it's so !@#$%^& long.
> 
> I know there are stories that has longer chapter, but this is a slow build story.
> 
> Anyway, this is the longest chapter yet and I hope all of you enjoyed. Ignore the grammatical errors, I was too lazy to check them.
> 
> Kudos and comments are much appreciated!


	10. Green’s Sometimes a Bad Color

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint acquired himself a kid

Clint sat blankly on one of the park benches near campus as he chewed on a hotdog. It was getting harder and harder to get his hands on Steve’s homemade cooking when the whole building realized Steve’s cooking’s godsend. It was getting more and more annoying having to come down and see a note from Steve saying that he made extra again, only to see that someone else already took it. 

Either he’s losing his ‘early-bird’ thing going on, or the people in that building decided that sleeping isn’t necessary when you can win over Steve’s cooking.

He continued to chew and stare blankly ahead when he spotted an uncanny looking guy, probably a few years younger than him, glaring at the hotdog stand where Clint had bought his lunch. The boy was dressed like he just grabbed the first thing he saw on someone’s clothesline—coming from a person who used to actually do that in a weekly basis, Clint can vouch for that assumption, or maybe a neon green blouse and plaid slacks is his type of style —and one look on the guy’s hair, Clint knew no one bothered to introduce shampoo and conditioner on the poor guy, it’s like his hair was soaked in oil for three years..

It was either coincidence or the boy had the sixth sense or some other crazy thing the people seem to claim they have these days, but either way the guy turned his head sharply and glared at Clint without so much as a pause from glaring at the hotdog stand. As if the he knows he was starring.

Clint paused, then hesitantly raised his free hand to wave at the strange guy.

_Weird dude._

_… And shit, the weird dude’s walking towards me._

_Aw, privacy, no._

“Can I help you?” Clint asked when the man reached his spot, standing in front of him a few inches away from invading his personal space.

The boy’s green eyes, Clint noticed because he was too damn close, glared at the offending hotdog before looking back at Clint. “I demand you to buy me one of those.”

Clint blinked unimpressed, then took a bite, then blinked again—more unimpressed. “I shouldn’t probably be saying this, but you should lay off the coke and get back to school.”

The man frowned. “Excuse me?”

Clint sighed. “Listen, dude,” he said. “I don’t know you, and I could barely buy my own food these days.” Because apparently, what they say with burning through your money in you teenage years was like throwing away a condom, was quiet true. “So wherever you got that big ass idea that I’ll go buy you a hotdog with a glare that could probably kill a rabbit, never go back there again.”

The guy continued to glare at Clint before moving his eyes to glare somewhere else with a scoff that sounded so much like “insufferable human beings.”

“Whoa,” Clint said standing up, causing for the boy to take a step back. “That’s a bit of an attitude coming from a fourteen year old.”

The nameless boy glared even harder. “I’m sixteen.”

“Oh, thirteen,” Clint said. “I’m sorry.”

Apparently the boy doesn’t have that much skills in keeping it together, he snapped immediately. “For the love of christ! I just want you to acquire me a hotdog, what’s so difficult with that?”

“I could write a novel with why I don’t need to buy you shit.” Clint said, “buy your own damn hotdog, and leave me alone.”

“I can’t acquire my own,” the boy retorted back, as if Clint not buying him the hotdog doesn’t make any sense.

“ _Jesus christ_ , then go to your mom and ask her for pocket money,” Clint said, sitting back down on the bench. “And when you do that, go ask her some fashion advice, while that blouse is pretty, it doesn’t work for you.”

He wasn’t that much of an asshole when he was a kid, right? Barney maybe, but he was pretty sure he didn’t reach this level. Or maybe they both did but they didn’t notice. 

Clint didn’t notice the kid visibly stiffening before looking down at his feet. When Clint _did_ notice, h also looked down at the boy’s feet, only to find it barefooted. He didn’t notice it before, due to the fact that the slacks was too long for the boy, but now he did. Clint groaned and rubbed his temples, he’s having a Thor episode again. “You know, you shouldn’t have ran away from home.”

“I did not.” It must have been because he was too pissed off with the kid, but now he was suddenly noticing that the way he talks reminds him of Thor a little bit. Sounded fine, but if you listen carefully, you can notice the bit of formal talking.

He decided to ignore it and favoured to raise one of his eyebrows. “Kid you ain’t fooling anyone.”

“I ought you to know,” he said, still looking at his feet. “I’m pretty good with fooling people.”

“Right,” Clint said. “Clearly you did a good job at fooling me.”

The boy didn’t bother saying anything.

“Look kid, I’m just trying to eat lunch,” Clint said when the kid made no attempt on leaving. “If you’re hungry, go home, apologize, and eat your mother’s cooking.”

“I can’t” He uttered.

“If you had the balls to run away from your home, you also have the balls to go back.”

This time he went back at glaring at Clint, and Clint would really want the kid to look back at his feet. The guy could fucking glare. “I didn’t ran away.”

“You’re actually telling me you didn’t ran away,” Clint said raising an eyebrow.

The boy went back on looking down on his feet. “I,” he paused. “I did.”

“And here we go,” Clint clapped. “You did ran away from home.”

“No I didn’t.”

Clint was two seconds away from punching the kid on the face. “Kid, can you hear yourself? You ran away but you didn’t ran away?” he asked not amused. “I’m this close in committing child mistreatment.”

The boy didn’t bother to reply, instead he just continued on looking down at he feet. Clint rubbed his temples and was about to leave the kid, having already reached his limit. But he caught the look on the kid’s face, and for some reasons, it reminded him of the time he was living on the streets.

Leaning down on his elbows, he stared at him. “Did you ran away?”

There was a pause. “I did.”

Clint took a deep breath. “Did you ran away from home?”

Another pause, much longer. “No.”

Clint rubbed his temples before pulling out his phone. He was going to miss his next class but who cares, he was failing anyway. Putting his phone away, he stood up, startling the kid. “C’mon, the line’s short,” Clint said gesturing at the hotdog stand.

_Aw, money, no._

* * *

_“I pick pockets for a living.”_

A circus freak.

Disabled.

And a fucking thief.

Telling how much of a shit he used to be was starting to sound like a stupid decision now that Clint was revisiting the memory of Bruce’s breakdown in his room.

He was never embarrassed with his inability to hear things, because screw people who think people like him wouldn’t survive on their own, but there’s a clear line that he shouldn’t cross when you’re trying to calm down a person who could possibly bulldoze the whole bathroom, and telling the people that you live with that you used to be a criminal is not one.

He knew it was stupid, and he never should have done it. But Thor just looked so much like a kicked golden retriever that he couldn’t force his stupid mushy self to ignore Thor's obvious hard work in getting to know them. It just reminded him of the days he was in the circus, where no one would take a kid seriously. Next thing he knew he was asking people about the next movie-thing-whatsoever, tracking each one of them to get physically involved unlike his brother, Barney, who he spent most of the time imagining back then, and having to actually buy a DVD player that fits his budget.

Yes, he bough the DVD player. _Fuck you Tony Smith. ___

But telling everyone that you bought a century old DVD player seemed so pathetic, unless he collects old shits that nobody wants. The things he do for… for, well, nothing. He just does it, and he couldn’t find the reason why.

Maybe he was trying to pay Tony back, but in a weird twisted way where he tries to recreate this amazing thing that asshole did to him— that amazing thing being his hearing aids— and tries to do it to someone else. That someone else being Thor, and this runaway kid who he found himself feeding, apparently.

Taking one of his hearing aids off, he toyed with it and stared at the kid in front of him, who was devouring a cheeseburger but was still able to look like he was eating in fine dining. “Am finally gonna get a name?” he asked.

The kid paused mid chew and stared at him, blinking. He was still wearing the same blouse and slacks, but finally, about a week ago, he was able to wear loafers. Clint decided to ignore the fact that it was probably stolen. 

He was getting dirtier, but it haven’t reached a degree where filthy was better a use for describing him. That was why Clint was able to drag the kid inside McDonald’s.

“I think I fed you enough burgers and hotdogs to finally get a name,” he said when he didn’t received an answer.

“I do not agree with that statement,” he said.

“So what,” Clint said. “You’re going to be a nameless kid forever? I gotta have to put a name on the person who owes me you know.”

That made the kid pause, then suddenly Clint found himself on the receiving end of the kid’s famous glare. “Owe you?”

Clint leaned down on his chair, already immune with the kid’s ability to glare like he could kill. “Nothing’s free you know.”

The kid continued to glare before dropping the burger on the table.

Clint snorted. “I’m joking,” he said and the boy’s tense shoulder visibly relaxed. “If you can’t tell me your name, tell me about yourself then. I’ve known you for a month now, and yet I still don’t know anything about you.”

“You’re not obligated to learn anything about me,” The boy said. “You just need to provide me food.”

Clint laughed this time. “Asshole,” he said. “You’re a little shit aren’t you?” he said laughing.  
The kid scrunched his eyebrows and studied Clint before grabbing the burger and taking a bite out of it. “You’re in distress,” He stated. “Did something happened?”

Clint paused, his hands freezing from toying his earphones, and looked at the kid in front if him. “Nosy, aren’t you.” it wasn’t a question.

The kid never respected him, always demanding things and that, he can’t even say thanks. And yet Clint would still feed him every other day, getting nothing in return. Just like back at the building. And he’s starting to wonder: when is he going to stop and realize that maybe this is enough. Maybe he already repaid Tony’s good deed.

_Maybe…_

“Have you ever felt like you have to prove yourself?” Clint suddenly asked.

“Pardon?”

Clint shrugged and put on his hearing aids, the boy tracking his movements. Come to think of it, the boy never asked him about his hearing aids. “Let’s put it this way. You’re in a group of superheros.”

“Excellent, that is so realistic,” The boy said unamused.

“Shut up,” Clint immediately said. “So, the thing is, one’s a god, one wears an armor that could rival any weapon, another is the peak of human perfection, one is a shape shifter who could turn into a monster when angry, and an assassin that was trained when young.”

“Where is this heading?”

“I’m still talking,” Clint said. “Going back, that leads to you, where you’re just a guy, with a bow and arrow, that was raised in a circus.”

“No I wouldn’t” The boy said disinterested. “I would be a god, and the villain of the story.”

Clint frowned “Wow, imaginative,” he threw a wrapper at the kid. “Will you stop being a dick for a moment,” he said. “Or I swear that will be your last burger, ever.”

The kid shrugged. “I guess I could.”

“So? How would you feel?”

The boy was quiet for a minute. “I don’t know,” he shrugged. “You tell me.”

Clint raised one of his eyebrows at him.

“I feel like you already know the answer.”

_You have to prove that you never miss._

Clint’s not stupid, he wants to prove that he’s just like everybody else. That even if he’s a freak of nature: raised in a circus, a brother who wouldn’t give a shit about him, a thief, and the fact that no one would be waiting for him anywhere, he still wants to prove that he’s like anybody else. He wants to leave his previous life, forget it rather, prove that he can reach so much more. Even when he’s well, not…

_Normal._

The kid tapped an offbeat rhythm on the table and Clint found himself staring at it, before looking at the kid’s eyes that was darting everywhere.

* * *

_Normal…_

Clint stared at their front door that was covered in duct tape to cover the hole Bruce created. He blinked at the drawn peephole on the gray surface of the duct tape and stared at the note taped next to it.

_HERE’S YOU PEEPHOLE, DUMBASS_

Clearly it was Tony’s hand writing.

_Aw, shame, no._

Staring at the door, he remembered the happenings from last night.

He was too busy being embarrassed at the fact that everyone knew he used to be a thief that he forgot how Bruce would feel. The guy just broke a door.

“Is the door locked?”

Clint turned and saw Bruce with his too big of a bag. “ls it weird that this feels normal?” Clint asked pointing at the door.

Bruce shrugged. “My whole life’s never been normal,” he said. “So I don’t really know.”

Clint blinked, before realizing what just happened. “Shit, no. I didn’t mean it that way,” Clint backtracked. “Oh and also, I don’t blame you with, you know” He gestured at the door. “This, and everything else, I swear.”

Bruce gave a small smile. “It’s okay,” he paused. “Just… tell me, anything, anything at all, if you feel weird living with me. I don’t want to be a...” He trailed.

“Dude, stop that,” Clint groaned. “Did any of the information I said last night register inside your head? We’re—” _not that different._

Clint paused, the realization setting in.

He told them those things to calm Bruce down, to make him realize that no one’s rattled or teriffied of him, that he’s not the worst person in the room. And Clint wanted to kick himself when he only registered the fact that he had just told everyone the freak that he was. 

_“You still think I’m like you guys?”_

_Yeah, apparently you are._

Clint’s not stupid, but he could be in some situations.

God, how could he be so ignorant.

“We’re what?” Bruce asked, snapping Clint out of his thoughts.

“Good,” he said. “We’re good.” Wanting to change the topic, his eyes landed on Bruce’s bag. “What’s with the bag? It’s a weekend.”

“I just thought I could finish a few things at the uni,” He answered. “You sure you’re not—”

“What do you want to watch next week?”

* * *

Clint continued to click his tongue before leaning in and placing his elbows on the table. “Remember the time when I said something about superheroes.” 

“No,” the boy immediately said. “I seek to forget what’s no longer valuable.”

_Aw, conversation, no._

“Stop being a douche,” Clint retorted. “I think you forgot that I’m feeding you,” he reminded.

The boy sighed and stopped from attacking his fries to look at Clint. “What’s the point, I already know what you’re going to say,” he said. “I have my ways in getting inside people’s heads.”

“I’m starting to think you’re just making things up along the way.”

He snorted. “Maybe,” he said shrugging. “But it’s one of the reasons why I can fool people.”

Clint was quite for a minute, the boy taking that as the end of the conversation and giving back his full attention on the food in front of him. “Or maybe,” Clint said, voice a lot lower than what’s normal. “It’s a side affect.”

“Of being around assholes?” the boy suggested. “Maybe, I mean I grew up with an asshole.”

“Maybe,” _That’s a lot of maybes in a conversation._ “Or maybe coke?” The boy immediately tensed. “Mary Jane? Brown Tape? Was that right, they call Heroin Brown Tape, right?”

Slowly, the kid dragged his eyes up at Clint, and he was furious. Apparently the previous glares that Clint always receives were quite tame, even though he’s pretty sure it could kill bunnies. 

Clint knew he was crossing a line, but the longer he puts it off, the longer it’ll nag him. Shouldn’t the kid be at home? Or in rehab? He shouldn’t bother, he knew it wasn’t any of his business, because really, he should just ignore it, or the the kid himself. But dammit, turns out he’s not done surpassing Tony’s act of kindness. _Fuck that sounded so stupid._

“Shut up.”

“Mood swings, being defensive, I could still list off a lot of things but the point is you’re showing signs of drug relapse,” he said. “You also reacted weird, back when we first met, when I mentioned you using coke.” He must sound like an asshole, considering that he was listing it off like he was reciting his grocery list. But he wasn’t there to sugar coat, he was there to drill the things the kid needs to know inside his head. “You’re also showing signs of drug usage, so I’m guessing you already had a fix a couple of days ago, am I right?”

“You think you know me, don’t you?” the boy hissed. “You think you can read me?”

“I don’t read people,” Clint said. “I watch them, I got great eyesight, and you leeching on me was a bad move on your end.”

Then the boy did something Clint wasn’t expecting, he snorted out a laugh. “I don’t think so, I’m pretty sure I did a good move,” Then he produced Clint’s wallet, and Clint ended up patting his pockets to make sure, but the wallet on the boy’s hands were really his. “I’m pretty good at fooling people, remember?”

Then he bolted.

* * *

Being a thief himself—well, a retired one—getting robbed was embarrassing, especially getting robbed by a kid. He was smart, Clint could give him that, he got himself free food for at least a few days, then once his cover was blown, he could run away with the victim’s wallet. He was a good liar, excellent maybe, making him wonder if all the things the kid said were lies.

But the thing that he’s lacking was the fact that he’s not that familiar within his base of operation, considering that Clint was still running after him.

The boy went through a lot of passageways that could probably lose typical civilians, or policemen, but if there’s one thing Clint’s good at when he still used to steal stuff, it was running away. Basically, the kid’s definition of escaping was child’s play. Honestly, Clint was only waiting for the kid to run out of fuel.

He glanced around his surroundings and realized that he knew this part of the city. He took a different route, knowing that he’ll end up colliding with the kid at the intersection.

And he was right.

“Gotcha!” He exclaimed, grabbing the boy by the back of his collar.

“Unhand me!” He immediately screeched.

_Aw, hearing aids, no._

“You talk way too formal for a junkie,” Clint said and snatched his wallet from the boy’s grip. “You should have placed this in you pocket the minute you got it you know, but then again, you don’t have pockets.”

“Let go of me!” The kid threw him a few punches, tried to kick Clint on the groin, but it wasn’t really doing anything. Clint’s not proud with being a thief and all, but the experience did help him towards similar situations like this.

_I guess that’s a silver lining._

“Loki?”

Clint snapped his head up and saw Thor, with a pretty girl, staring at the kid Clint was holding. “Thor?” Then he glanced at the kid who was looking at Thor with wide eyes. “Wait, you know this kid?”

The pretty nameless girl glanced at Clint, then at Thor, before looking back at Clint. “You know each other?” 

“Thor,” the kid, Loki ( _The hell is wrong with their parents?_ ), growled. 

“I’m taking that as a yes to knowing each other,” Clint said, the weird phrasing suddenly made sense now.

“What are you doing here?” Thor bellowed, and Clint found himself taking a step back. He wasn’t expecting that, especially from Thor.

“Taking a nice walk with this friend of yours,” Loki said. “I must say, the world is small.”

“I do not have time for your games, Loki!” Thor retorted. “What. Are. You. Doing here?”

“What’s going on?” The girl asked, and Clint couldn’t agree more. He was used with seeing Thor like a giant puppy or something, as far as he knows, this Thor doesn’t even exist. “Thor, who is he?”

And the words that came out next made absolutely no sense to Clint.

“He’s my brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey ya'll! Happy Valentines, hope you all had a great Holiday 'cause i certainly did. And no, I don't have boyfriend, yes I went on a date, no it wasn't romantic, yes it was a friend.
> 
> Basically I just went out with some friends. Pffft! Who needs love life? 
> 
> Anyway, Clint's chapter was basically just an introduction for Loki and I hope you like my characterization on him. So far, he had the most changes comparing to the others with their comic book counterparts. I had fun playing around with his character, but I've been really busy this last few weeks so I wasn't able to really give my best on this chapter. I got a Thesis paper, a Research paper, and an Investigatory project lined up this sem and I'm three seconds away from committing murder. Seriously, we have three papers to finish and I'm wondering if High School's in different countries also have that because I need to encourage myself that we're not the only ones suffering.
> 
> My sister flat out rejected my calls for help with this chapter because she was also busy, school and with her story, you should check her out sometimes. [talkativefangirl13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkativefangirl13/pseuds/talkativefangirl13)
> 
> Comments and Kudos are much appreciated. And If you like, leave some ideas that you'd like to see in this story, maybe I'll end up liking it and putting it in.


	11. Second Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's Thor, and then there's Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unlike Bruce, I used The movie version for Thor's story. Because frankly, i tend to avoid Thor's earlier comics. Not that it's bad, it just doesn't really work with me. But always expect comic references.

Bruce blinked, then blinked again, then decided that it wasn’t enough to prove what he’s seeing, he blinked some more before touching the note sticking on the fridge.

_I’m keeping the note—Natasha_

It took three more minutes, maybe even more, before Bruce found the strength to continue with his morning routine. Not thinking, and not ignoring—absolutely not ignoring—the reason behind Natasha’s actions. Of course, he doesn’t think that it’s not a good thing, it’s just that he also believes that it could be a bad thing.

Bruce entered the bathroom and froze, taking in the missing mirror on the wall, and the obviously broken door knob of the bathroom. Honestly, Bruce’s still waiting for the others to complain about losing their privacy while taking a dump or something. 

Sighing, Bruce dropped his stuff on the bathroom sink and stared at his bandaged hands. The sad part was knowing that his episode last night wasn’t even one of his worsts, to put it lightly, it was one of his more tamed moments. It was his fault anyway, he never should have tried visiting his grave.

He thought it had been long enough, that maybe this time he could keep in together. It was only right to respect the dead after all, even if his father was a complete asshole. It’s been years anyway, sure the memory still haunts him, and some days are the worst, but again it’s been years.

Maybe they were right, maybe he never should have given up therapy. But then again, it was making things much worse than actually helping. He couldn’t count the times he contemplated punching his therapist’s face whenever he would jot something down. But maybe he should have, then he would’ve been sent to jail even with his age—because killing his father wasn’t enough, apparently—then maybe, he wouldn’t be right at this moment. 

You know there’s something wrong with you when you’d rather be in jail or in some institution rather than the outside world.

“Good Morning!”

“Jesus!” Bruce jumped as he whipped his head at the intruder.

Thor blinked at him owlishly, “It’s Thor, actually.”

“No, it’s a—” then he broke of a laugh, finding Thor’s ignorant expression funny for some reasons.. “It’s just an expression.”

Thor nodded. “I see,” he said before staring at him. “You should laugh more, or perhaps smile. I believe it helps.”

Bruce paused and blinked, he’s been blinking a lot lately. “not really, when your just faking it.”

“Were you faking it?” Bruce found himself slightly shaking his head and Thor beamed. “Well then, I should leave you to your doings.”

And if Bruce had trusted his eyesight, he would have thought that Thor was smiling smugly at himself as he left the bathroom. But he doesn’t, therefore it took him until he was walking down the path to SHEILD when he realized that Thor couldn’t be that stupid not to know what he meant when he said Jesus.

_“You should laugh more, or perhaps smile. I believe it helps.”_

* * *

“It’s okay,” he paused. “Just… tell me, anything, anything at all, if you feel weird living with me. I don’t want to be a...” Bruce trailed off, not really bothering to finish the sentence.

“Dude, stop that,” Clint groaned. “Did any of the information I said last night register inside your head? We’re—” then he just immediately stopped talking.

Bruce paused, suddenly wondering if Clint’s having a small breakdown and realized that he wouldn’t want to be living with a freak of nature such as himself. Sure he admitted to being a thief back then, but he never killed anyone, and nothing’s really wrong with living with the circus. No one can really chose the situation that they’re born into.

“We’re what?” he finally asked.

“Good, we’re good.” Then his eyes landed on Bruce’s bag, almost to quickly. “What’s with the bag? It’s a weekend.”

Bruce blinked for a few moments, studying Clint. He was never gonna be that type of person, the one who could sympathize or read people, he’d rather just keep to himself actually. But looking at Clint, he could see the same look he used to always see in front of the mirror.

He knew everyone had their own demons, but maybe he’s not the only one with the worse once. It’s not something to be happy about, in fact he’s not. But, knowing that you’re not alone means you can face it with someone, and do it vice versa.

_“Good, we’re good.”_

* * *

Tony plopped down on the seat across from him and started to rant about ungrateful professors who couldn’t accept the fact that a student had outsmarted them as he scribbled something down on his not so neat notes.

“He was obviously teaching the method wrong, and he’s just embarrassed that he’s been teaching it wrongly for the past sixteen years he’s been a professor.”

Bruce, like any other day, pushed his stuff at the side to make way at the mountains of blueprints Tony carries with him in a daily basis. Honestly, Bruce was pretty sure that ninety-eight percent of it were not even school-related.

Ever since that bathroom incident, Tony had leeched on Bruce. Not that he hadn’t leeched on Bruce before the incident, it just went up a notch after. Maybe Tony only stuck himself next him because they’re the only two people that could actually understand each other’s language, but he couldn’t help but notice that Tony’s been rather chummy lately. Which just looked awkward, you can perfectly see that comforting isn’t his strong suit.

“You know, you don’t have to force yourself.”

Tony snorted. “Oh don’t worry, I wasn’t forcing myself,” he said. “Humiliating someone’s actually part of my three o’clock schedule.”

“I didn’t mean about that.”

Tony paused with whatever it that he was doing and stared at Bruce before clicking his tongue. “Before you go there, I’m gonna stop you right now and tell you to shut up,” he said.

“Listen, you don’t have to—”

“No, you listen.” He dropped the pen he was holding and leaned back on his seat. “I’m not good with people, I’m good with faking it in front of people, but other than that, none.” _I can see that._ “Now I’m good with Science, and Math—let’s not forget Math—so if you think I’m hanging out with you because of something else—probably connected to the missing mirror in our bathroom—stop it immediately, because you can’t possibly think that Clint can appreciate my wisdom.”

“Tony, just because—”

“No, shut up,” he immediately said, cutting Bruce off. “I’m not walking on eggshells or trying to act all heroic here, the reason why I’m not running for the hills is because I realized that you’re normal. You can say that wrecking the bathroom mirror and the door had its perks.”

That threw Bruce off for a moment. “I’m pretty sure I’m far from normal, Tony.”

“No, I’m pretty sure you are.”

And the way he talks, as if he was really convinced with the idea, made Bruce snort. “So you’re saying you’re not normal because I’m normal?”

What Tony did next was not what he was expecting, he smirked and Bruce must have blinked too much to be even considered as a normal human reaction. “ Sorry Brucie bear, but I’m pretty normal myself.”

_“You still think I’m like you guys?”_

* * *

Bruce adjusted his backpack as he reevaluated his last experiment and tries to determine where he went wrong. Then again, he was working under pressure considering that he was using the labs when it wasn’t even allowed to be used yet.

“I do not have time for your games, Loki!”

Bruce stopped midway from turning on a corner and blinked—honestly, he’s been blinking way too much and it’s starting to worry him, and the fact that he’s worrying over things like blinking too much is another thing to worry about—before realizing that what he heard was Thor.

Thor shouting should never even be possible.

He stood still for a moment, but curiosity got a better of him and he found himself straining his ears to hear the conversation. He was able to register that Clint was there, and the person the shouted was really Thor, and two other voices Bruce isn’t familiar off.

Bruce was never the person to eavesdrop, but there’s always a first in everything.

“He’s my brother.”

The statement left Bruce raising both of his eyebrows, and actually found himself peeking at the commotion. But before he could so much as see a strand of any of their hairs, there was a loud “Shit!”, something heavy dropping on the ground, and he got as far as peeking with one of his eyes before registering the color green then pain exploded from his nose.

“Mother of—!” He exclaimed staggering back—almost loosing his balance— as both of his hands flew straight to his nose.

“Bruce!” then followed by a bunch of rapid footsteps.

He heard someone else groaning, then a “of course, how wonderful.”

Bruce forced his eyes open and came face to face with a lanky teenager.

Maybe it just instinct moving, but there was a flurry of movement as the teenager tried to bolt. Bruce was only able to recognize Thor shouting something—maybe his native language, and Clint cursing like a sailor, but one thing’s for sure, whoever this kid is, he’s not suppose to get away.

Bruce shot one of his arms and took a hold of the kid’s… _blouse?_

“Unhand me!’

 _Thor’s brother then,_ Bruce concluded.

The kid, who appeared to be named Loki (What is wrong with their parents?) yanked himself out of Bruce’s grasp, but was only able to send them both sprawling on the ground. It wasn’t a graceful fall to be exact, considering that both of his hands were occupied, with one keeping his nose intact.

“Unhand me you ungrateful swine!”

_There was lot of things wrong about that sentence._

Before the kid could do so much as kick him on the face, Thor crouched down beside them and yanked Loki away by the collar. Bruce took Clint’s hand as he helped him up, before proceeding to inspect his nose.

“That doesn’t look good.”

Bruce looked up and came face too face with a pretty looking lady.

As if on cue, warm liquid started to seep through his fingers, down his mouth, to his chin, before dripping down towards the ground. Bruce pulled his hand away from his noise and saw blood clinging on his fingers. He sighed, not really bothered, just a little annoyed that his injuries weren’t exactly reducing.

“Shit,” she cursed. “I think I have a napkin somewhere,” she added opening her purse before rummaging inside it, successfully pulling out a blue cloth, she started dabbing lightly on Bruce’s bleeding nose. “Are you a friend of Thor’s?” 

Bruce winced at the pain, but continued to let her. “Uh, yeah, I guess?” He said. “I live with him.” He then realized the multiple meaning behind that statement. “I mean, I’m uh, you know, like a housemate and—” But then he noticed the far off look she was sporting. 

“Housemate…” She repeated somewhat monotonous.

“Uh, are you—ow!”

The girl snapped off from her trance and immediately retracted her hand. “Sorry!” she said before going back on dabbing at Bruce’s nose, this time more careful. “I just—”

“No it’s okay, I think I’ll just—” Bruce said, trying his best to take the napkin from Jane and deal with his own bleeding nose himself.

“Well this is eventful.”

Every head snapped at the intruder.

Bruce blinked at Natasha, who was surveying the current event. Next to her was Tony, who was blinking way too much to be considered normal. 

Bruce glanced at the girl in front of him, she stopped her ministration with his nose the minute Natasha spoke and was looking at her as well, but was still holding the napkin directly at his nose, before glancing at Clint and Thor, who he now notice were cornering the kid that seemed to be the cause of the current situation, then back at Natasha. He was pretty sure something inside himself died when he saw her glaring at him—glaring like that should really be illegal. Which confused him, a lot.

She glared at Bruce and the still nameless girl, before fleeting her eyes at Thor and Clint.

“Hey, what are you all…”

Every heads turned to Steve as he stood awkwardly with both his hands holding the strap of his messenger bag. The healing black eye made the whole picture kinda weird, and Bruce couldn’t help but wince internally knowing that he was the cause of it. He apologized to Steve the minute he got the chance, but something went wrong in the middle of the conversation because for some reasons, the conversation ended with Steve apologizing as well.

“More commoners, how brilliant,” the kid drawled, earning him all of their attention again, with the addition of Steve.

_“Well this is eventful.”_

* * *

Bruce sat awkwardly on the armchair he was sharing with Natasha, who was pointedly not looking at him, but at the kid sitting on the middle of the floor. He’s not aware of a lot of things, but he’s pretty sure Thor’s the reason why the atmosphere in the room was suffocating as he glared down at his brother.

He glanced at Loki, the kid, and at Thor, then decided to keep quiet about the fact that they look nothing alike. But gazing on the look the others were sporting, he knew he’s missing something. Is there something they knew that he doesn’t?

Bruce glanced around, noting that the pretty lady, who was apparently Thor’s friend, Jane, was sitting awkwardly at one of the stools, probably feeling more awkward than him. He couldn’t help but note that she was avoiding to make eye contact to everyone, but chose to examine her hands instead.

“All I did was steal a wallet,” Loki mumbled irritably, arms crossed over his chest.

“Yeah, but it’s _my_ wallet,” Clint said just as irritably.

The kid glared at the blond in front of him, his eyes narrowed, “I didn’t ask for your inconsequential opinion.”

Tony leaned closer to Thor and whispered, “How old is your brother again?”

“In case you’re not aware, I can hear you.”

“Loki, that’s enough!”

Bruce stood up. “I’m going to make some tea,” he declared.

Jane opened her mouth, but Natasha stood up without so much as a thought. “I’ll help,” she said.

Bruce blinked. “Uh, yeah, sure,” he said as he made his way towards the kitchen.

Bruce rummaged through the cabinets, aware of the voices from the living room, and of Natasha’s presence near him. As soon as he found the water boiler Tony had bought a few days ago, he straightened up and proceeded to fill it with water.

He then proceeded to grab some mugs, even more aware of Natasha looming behind him. Even with the proclamation with helping him with making tea, she doesn’t seem to show any indication that she’ll actually do it considering how she only stood there with her arms crossed over her chest. Bruce leaned his hips on the counter as he waited for the water to boil, having no idea if he should just ignore her piercing stare or start up a conversation.

Stepping out of his comfort zone wouldn’t hurt.

“So…” He started as he nodded his head towards the living room, “Thor’s brother.” He should step out of his comfort zone a lot more.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, he didn’t know if she’s telling him to continue or daring him to continue because, honestly speaking, Bruce isn’t good at reading people, especially if he’s reading her.

He took the risk and spoke, “Am-am I? Uh.. Am I missing something?” When Natasha narrowed her eyes, Bruce thought that he should elaborate. Rubbing his nape he said, “I mean, ok, he’s Thor’s brother so, uh, he gets the attention but uhh…” he’s been using the ‘uh’ word a lot, smashing his head on the counter seems like a pretty good idea right now. “Why does everybody, uh, seem to— I don’t know, feels like he’s going to explode at any second?”

He had a feeling that the statement was also for him.

Natasha’s scrunched eyebrows eased giving him this blank stare that made Bruce look back at the boiler, wishing for the water to heat up faster.

“Remember the night you punched a hole on the wall?” she said flatly after leaning on the fridge.

Bruce winced. “Been trying to forget that,” he said, which for some odd reason wasn’t a good idea to be said in front of Natasha.

“You shouldn’t,” she said, and Bruce couldn’t help but scrunch his eyebrows. “There’s things that should be forgotten, and things that shouldn’t be forgotten. You don’t have to remember them, just don’t forget it.”

“Uhhh… I’m sorry?”

“I chose to forget things, but I also chose not forget the reason why I have to.” Natasha pushed herself off the fridge. “Breaking that mirror isn’t nice, but if you look at it differently, there’s something good that came out of it. Forgetting that means forgetting the good that happened after that.”

Bruce thought if the event that had happened after his breakdown was good; finding yourself in the ER while everyone waited outside. As far as he’s aware, none of it was good, all he got out of it were two broken doors, a broken mirror, and people walking on eggshells. “How would I know if there is?”

Natasha stared at the living room, watching the dispute Thor was having with Loki while the other three watch, “You don’t,” she simply said. “Sometimes, others would,” she paused as she continued to stare at the others. “Thor told us the last time he left his brother alone, he ended up waiting outside the emergency room.”

Bruce’s eyes widen, he’s whole posture freezing before snapping his attention toward Loki. “He’s—”

“He didn’t specify,” Natasha said. “But remember the time at the bathroom floor where he literally said that he was ignorant, where everything was already at its worst before he realized it?”

_Thor’s wake-up call was his brother._

Bruce snapped up when the boiler suddenly shut off. After pulling the plug he pulled out his stack of tea and started placing one bag on each cup. “Tony was right, you know a lot,” he said jokingly.

There was a pause that made Bruce look up. Natasha was staring at him with this look he can’t read. “Not enough, apparently,” she said. 

Bruce frowned, but she didn’t elaborate, instead she grabbed a plate and proceeded to fill it with cups of tea. But before leaving, she turned to Bruce, “Jane likes Thor, it’s pretty obvious.”

Bruce wanted to point out that it wasn’t, not even a little, but the statement threw him off for a loop. “Uh, what?”

But she was already walking away.

_“Jane likes Thor, it’s pretty obvious.”_

* * *

Loki ended up staying with them and moving into Thor’s room while the other decided to claim the couch downstairs. Claiming that if Loki takes the couch, the door was literally a few feet away, and obviously Loki has tendencies of running away. And if no one would be left at the building, Thor would drag him along in his classes.

Lunch with Loki could be counted as eventful, he never knew a kid that young could even think that amount of words to insult a sandwich.

Movie nights with Loki is a nightmare, there was one time Clint decided to lock him in the bathroom.

Steve would give nervous glances every now and then, Tony for his part looks really uninterested, Clint was the only one the kid would talk to—in all honestly talking wouldn’t even be the word to describe the how they communicate—Bruce was never really good with reading people, therefore he doesn’t really know where Natasha stands. But everyone never asked, never spoke anything with why Loki was even staying with them.

No one asked why was he on the streets, why wasn’t he at home, what happened and why are they so tense around each other? Aren’t they supposed to be brothers, sure there’s instances where they’re not close and it’s just plain awkward around each other, but this is different. Loki was adamantly ignoring Thor, that everyone can safely assume, and Thor was… he was trying.

Bruce was missing something, and he knew he shouldn’t even meddle, but something’s wrong and yet Thor would still try to smile, as if nothing was going on. And maybe nothing is going on and Bruce is just looking into it way to seriously. But for the past few days, he would always see Thor on his phone, or his laptop, waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

At this point, Bruce almost forgot about his bathroom fiasco, if it wasn’t for the very obvious missing mirror whenever he uses the bathroom, or the very slowly fading black eye Steve had plastered on his face whenever he sees him.

“No, he keeps saying he never ran away from home,” Steve said as he folded the wrapper of the sandwich he had just finished and tucked it inside the pocket of his messenger bag.

Tony raised his eyebrows at the action before decided to acknowledge the words instead. “Well, then he’s a lying liar who lies—”

“That’s too harsh for a person who you’ve only met days ago, and haven’t even talked to yet,” Steve retorted.

“And Thor wouldn’t be so paranoid with leaving him near an open door if he never had any history with running away,” Tony continued on, ignoring Steve. “For Christ’s sake, the guy padlocks his own windows just so that kid wouldn’t leave at night.”

It was one of those moments where Thor wasn’t with them, hence the absence of Loki. Therefore, for some reasons Tony thought it’d be best to spend it gossiping, much to Steve’s chagrin. Tony claimed it was for Thor’s well-being, Bruce wanted to point out that his statement has a few (a lot) of holes in it, but decided against it.

“That’s because the kid really _did_ ran away,” Clint pointed out munching down a tuna sandwich.

Tony gestured at Clint, as if trying to make reason, “See? Even he says he ran away from home. And it’s Clint.”

“That’s because he didn’t,” Clint, again, pointed out which made it a lot confusing.

Next to him, Natasha raised one eyebrow towards Clint. And no, she wasn’t confused, there would probably be a nuclear war first before Natasha gets confused in a situation.

“What the fuck, Clint?” Tony exclaimed.

With a groan, Clint placed his sandwich down. “He ran away, but not from home, get it Einstein?” 

Tony rolled his eyes and continued to stab his food. “For the record, I’m way smarter than him.” Then he paused, as if to realize something. “And you know this because?”

“I actually spent a few days with that asshole,” Clint supplied. “Before running away with my wallet.”

No one asked, and Bruce found himself deciding to not ask why he was with Loki in the first place. Maybe it wasn’t an important question, to begin with, Clint used to be in Loki’s position, maybe he found a common ground.

Bruce frowned.

Then again, even in his situation, Loki would still find things to complain about or insult. Unlike Thor, he’s a guy you could impress pretty easily, contrary to Loki who wouldn’t be impressed to anything unless he made it himself.

Bruce blinked, suddenly realizing something.

“Hold up, ran away from where exactly?” Tony asked, bringing Bruce back from his thoughts.

“Fuck if I know,” Clint shrugged. “The kid got some serious walls built around himself, you never know if he’s lying or not.”

“The kid tried to kill himself for crying our loud.”

Steve turned to glare at Tony. “Will you stop saying things before you even know them,” he retorted.

“I’m just saying how I seem ‘em, Cap,” Tony retorted back. 

“That’s the point, it’s how you see it, people doesn’t see the same thing as you do, so stop making assumptions to things you don’t even know,” Steve said as Bruce started to shrink from his seat.

“Guys, shut up,” Clint warned.

Tony ignored him. “They left him, and then they were magically at the ER.” “Could be other reasons.”

“Will you two cut it.”

Everyone in the table looked at Bruce, and that’s when he realized that he was the one that spoke up. Clearing his throat awkwardly, Bruce took a bite from his bagel before looking back at them again. “I just want to eat,” he said.

_“That’s because the kid really did ran away,”_

* * *

Bruce stared at the closed duct taped door of the building before sighing. He’s never going to let go of that night, apparently. Slowly pushed the door open, only to see Thor pacing in the living room, his phone next to his ear. His long hair that used to be on a bun was a mess, as if he had been running his fingers through it for the past hours. 

“You okay there?”

Thor flinched and turned to look at Bruce alarmed, “Jesus.”

Bruce stared at him. “It’s Bruce, actually.”

Thor blinked, and for moment, he smiled. “You have to admit, it was amusing,” he said, before looking down at his phone. His smile was instantly wiped from his face.

“You okay?” Bruce asked. “Where’s Loki?”

Thor pointed at the stairs. “I believe he’s annoying Clint as we speak,” he said not taking his eyes off his his phone.

Bruce scratched the back of his head, not really knowing what to do. He usually distances himself from everyone, he completely forgot what to do in these situations. Even in a crowd, he has always been by himself.

“Okay,” he said. “But are you okay?”

This time, Thor looked up and stared at Bruce. “Indeed,” it was a lie, and a poorly made one, but Bruce decided not to point it out. “It’s just, my father won’t answer.’”

Anything but fathers, unless it’s not obvious, he’s not really that interested with anything related with the word father, or dad, heck throw in Papa as well. His record and the broken furniture in the building says it all.

“Maybe he’s just busy?” Bruce supplied lamely, god he should kick himself.

Thor huffed out before shaking his head. “I am aware that he would not respond, I just thought if I try enough…” he sighed before turning back to Bruce with a smile. “But you should not even be worrying, it’s not as horrid as it seems. How’s you’re hand?”

The sudden change of emotion threw Bruce off for a bit, but he knew when and not to push. “Not good, but not as bad as Steve’s face.”

* * *

“—up, c’mon now.”

Bruce groaned and rolled over as he pressed his face on his pillow, avoiding the prodding finger on his face. 

“Alright then—”

Bruce yelped as two hands grabbed both of his ankles and pulled him off his bed. Face planting on the cold floor was never a good way to wake up, never. “Fuck,” he muttered.

“That should do it.”

Bruce groaned and squinted against the darkness of his room, before recognizing the voice of his intruder. “Natasha?” he asked groggily.

“Up, now.” She ordered as Bruce’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. 

Groaning, Bruce fumbled for a bit before finding the switch to turn on the lights. “Turning on the light’s would’ve woken me up better,” he muttered yawning.

 _And less painful,_ was left unsaid. 

“I know,” She replied, “But pulling you off the bed is entertaining,” 

“He awake?” Clint asked poking out his head from the doorway, Bruce had this short thought that for a moment, Clint was a bird. Natasha jerked her head to right, pointing at a very visible standing Bruce Banner beside her, “Ok good, bring him down stairs.” he said before disappearing.

Bruce didn’t have enough time to think what just happened, he himself being dragged out of his room by Natasha, holding his arm tightly just above his injury. He silently thanked that it was dark enough to cover his slowly reddening face.

Stunned, Bruce tried to ask for questions, “Uhhh,” and a poorly executed one as it seems. “W-What’s going on?”

“Loki ran away,” Natasha said without looking back, and honestly, he was already expecting it, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be surprised from it. As they started to descend the stairs, Bruce noticed that everyone was awake and a very sleep deprived Tony was nursing a cup of coffee. 

Once they reached the list flight, Bruce finally noticed, for the first time since he moved here, that Thor was panicking, _is_ panicking. He was pacing back and forth, cursing at his phone whenever the line was cut off. Steve entered the building in a panting mess, the bigger blond looked at him as if to ask _Found anything?_ But was replied with a shake of his head.

“Goddamnit!” He yelled throwing his phone on an opposite wall, surprising everyone from his action.

“Uhh, hey Thor, I think you should calm down, take a deep breath or something,” Clint said, it was probably the wrong word to say.

“Calm down?” He yelled, “You want me to calm down?” which was ironic considering that his voice doesn’t seem to waver by the second, Bruce thought, “I left my brother alone once—”

“Yes we know, you found yourself waiting by the ER—”

“Because he tried to take his own life!” 

In the background, Tony snapped his head up and pointed a finger at Steve. “told you,” he mouthed in which the other guy gave him a look that practically says: _Not now._

“My brother, had problems with… with drugs, so he was brought here to be fixed.” Thor continued, his voice suddenly going low. “To get it out his system. I thought it was going well. He was staying in some building that was supposed to make him change and move on, not— Not make him worse—”

“Like a rehab?” Natasha stated flatly, the monotony of her voice started to seem normal to everyone.

Thor’s thick eyebrows furrowed, “Rehab?”

“Shit,” Clint suddenly commented. “He ran away, but not from home,” he said as if finally finding out the answer to an unsolved riddle. Then again, it sorta was.

“No wonder the kid’s got issues,” Tony muttered, earning him a piercing glare from Steve. The shorter man only shrugged, as if trying to get a raise out of him. “Sooner or later he’s gonna have a relapse.”

“Already did,” Clint said. “Maybe a few weeks ago.” Thor couldn’t look worse.

Looking down at his socked feet, Bruce frowned. “I assume we’re all awake to search for him,” he said.

Tony yawned, not even bothered. “Can’t, I need sleep, and frankly I don’t know him.”

Steve turned to Tony with a glare. He studied him for a few seconds before hardening his glare. “You’re actually serious,” he said unamused.

“Seriously?” Clint as in disbelief. “You’d rather sit this one out? The guy’s unstable.”

“He managed to live in the streets, right?” Tony said. “Just file a missing report in the morning.”

“He’s my brother,” Thor said. “What if it’s your family—”

“Good thing I don’t care about them,” Tony said, this time his voice was laced with something Bruce can’t quite pinpoint, but something was there. “I have parents, not a family.” then he just left, muttering about unnecessary wake up calls.

Steve glared at Tony’s retreating figure, sweat still clinging from his bangs. Bruce looked down, before glancing back at everyone, Thor looking like this shouldn’t even exist, but apparently it does. Looking at the bathroom door, thinking about the missing mirror, his bandaged hand, Steve’s black eye, and the two broken door, Bruce realized that maybe it’s his turn.

“C’mon,” Bruce said heading for the door. “He’s just in a mood, we can search Loki ourselves.”

Thor met his eyes and smiled at him gratefully.

_“Loki ran away,”_

* * *

Splitting up was his idea, so he really can’t blame anyone but himself as he glared at his bruised knee and skinned palms. For all he knows, that additional step shouldn’t even exist.

“Sorry,” he said as he accidentally bumped with a man on his phone—three a.m. and some people are still awake… or finally awake. Apparently people barely sleeps in this place.

When Bruce found himself standing in the empty park again, Bruce sighed and sat down on one of the benches. Massaging his sore feet and inspecting his bleeding palms, he sighed again. He had just taken off his stitches on his knuckles, and know there’s another addition to his collection of injuries.

He considered texting the others whether they were lucky enough to find Loki, but at the same moment his phone pinged. Pulling it out of his pocket, he stared at the text Clint sent on the group text (“Add Tony” Steve said from his spot as he ties his shoes. “He’s a jerk, but let’s not leave him out.”) and sighed again.

_Any luck?_

He turned off his phone and leaned back. He stared at the trees, the empty playground, before looking at the street. He’s first and last conversation with Loki was when he asked if he wants some tea, most of the time he just watch him interact with other—or to insult to put it simply. He was the same as Tony, he doesn’t really know the guy. He knew a few this and that about him, but not anything concrete to know what’s going on inside his head.

He took a few breath, he can do this, he just have to think, yes, think, he’s good at thinking. If he were Loki, where would he go?

Bruce wanted to laugh humorlessly because what the hell? He’s not Loki, he doesn’t even know the kid, how would he know where he would go if he ran away?

Then something clicked.

_Ran away._

Loki ran away from rehab because he hated the place.

Loki ran away from them because he hated them, no, not just them, he hated being around people there. Thor mentioned about Loki being a diva, but if you used to be in rehab, who wants attention? Bruce would know because of Loki’s daily complaints about being in a crowded area had been stuck in his head like a song that wouldn’t get out, which completely contradicts to the fact that he likes bossing around on people.

_Ok, secluded areas, what next?_

Loki’s underage, meaning dark alley’s are dangerous for him. The kid’s not that stupid to wander off on his own, that part is obvious considering how well he is on foreign words.

_Secluded areas that are people friendly, now what?_

After a few month’s of living in the city, Bruce has known a lot of secluded areas around here, but that could take him hours before (if possible) he finds Loki, and if he adds in his embarrassing health, he might probably find himself face planted on the middle of the road, completely passed out. 

Then a distant memory of Loki watching in front of the TV with rapt attention resurfaced from his head, the view of being on top of the mountain was illuminated through the screen. Bruce found himself slowly backing out from the scene when he heard Loki say something about how beautiful the world looks and what would it feel for people to kneel before him.

The kid’s in rehab for a reason.

_Secluded area that are people friendly with a beautiful view of the city._

And just like that, Bruce had a hunch on where Loki might be, he crossed his fingers and hoped that he was right. Standing up, he made a run for it.

He just hopes he’s right.

_“All I did was steal a wallet,”_

* * *

Bruce was a panting mess and he’s pretty sure that he’s starting to loose some feeling on his legs funny when he found Loki sitting by the end of a cliff, the view was as always beautiful, with all the city light looking like a bunch of Christmas lights. Pulling out his phone, he opened their group chat and texted: _I found him._

Bruce gave it a thought and decided adding where he is before shutting down his phone to avoid future distraction. He needs to speak with Loki first, alone.

“It’s a good view,” Bruce said, and he gotta have to give it to the kid, he didn’t even flinch.

“No need to state the obvious,” he replied. “And here I thought I wouldn’t be found.” He paused. “Did my brother sent you?”

Bruce took a few steps forward, studying Loki. “Back off the cliff and I’ll tell you.”

Loki turned to Bruce, frowning, before breaking off with a huge grin and letting the most genuine laugh Bruce ever heard from him. But it doesn’t sit well with him “If you think I’m planning to end myself, you’re much more dimwitted than Barton.”

“But you—”

“Brother told you my sob story didn’t he?” Loki lashed, and the sudden change of mood almost made Bruce flinch. “Did he forgot to mention he’s the cause of it?”

Bruce blinked, Tony said something about Loki being a liar, which Clint agreed, is this one of those moments? “What? Loki, what—”

“Did you actually believe I’m like this due to my own accords?” Loki laughed ignoring Bruce, this time hysterical, and Bruce didn’t know what to do, he was never built for this kind of conversation. “He’s a self centered bastard who’s willing to leave me behind to frolic with people who hates me, a selfish person who couldn’t even see that he was leaving me behind when he promised that he’ll always be there! So don’t even go and express me he meant to do good!”

Bruce blinked.

Loki glared at him. “Do you even know why he’s here? Why he’s alone in this godforsaken place? Why father wouldn’t even answer any of his calls?” Bruce just stared as the wind suddenly picked up. “Of course not, all you see is some puppy you shouldn’t kick!”

“Loki,” Bruce started, but couldn’t bring himself to continue.

“Oh poor Thor, poor older brother of mine!” He yelled turning to the view of the city before standing up and taking a step away from the edge, turning to stare at Bruce. Well, at least he was away from the edge“Did he forget to mention the mayhem he caused last year? Where it went too far he had to go to court? God, he’s so full with himself, all I ever sought was an equal, and he just couldn’t turn his head to look. He’s the one with the problems, and yet I’m still the freak! I’m still the disappointment! So stop defending him!”

“I’m not,” Bruce immediately said.

Loki stopped and stared at him. “Excuse me?”

Bruce squared his shoulders, trying to ignore the cold breeze. “I didn’t said anything remotely close to defending Thor.”

Loki stared, and for a long moment nothing could be heard but the loud wind and Loki’s heavy breathing. Any minute now, the others might come, but Loki being this worked isn’t a good way to start.

“Why are you here?”

Loki snorted. “trying to get away from the lot of you.”

“Like you said, Thor… he’s sent here as a punishment, right?” Bruce said. “How about you?” Rehab of course, though Loki doesn’t knew that. What Loki doesn’t know wouldn’t heart.

Loki raised his chin and narrowed his eyes on him, “And what good will it do if I tell you?”

Bruce remembered how it felt when he told the others about his parents, how it feels to have something off of his chest that kept on nagging at him for years. Sure it was weird, he didn’t know how to act around others, but honestly it made things a little better. “Comfort I guess?” He shrugged.

Loki scoffed, “I’m not that weak to seek for human compassion.”

Taking the risk, Bruce took a step closer, “You know, you always act so high and mighty,” he said as he continued to step forward. Eyebrows furrowed, Loki stayed rooted on his spot. 

Bruce didn’t hesitate, with his injured hand, he punched the kid straight on the face. With his lanky body, Loki instantly fell down on the ground, clutching the middle of his face and eyes glaring murderously at the college student.

“But you’re just a puny little kid,” Bruce stated crouching down in front of him. “And frankly I don’t care, it could be your fault, could be Thor’s, bottom line you need help. And I know, because I’ve been there.”

At this point the kid was still glaring, but somehow he’s calmed down. “You have no idea how—”

“Kid, trust me,” he said grabbing the kid by the collar before hoisting him up. Sure, Loki was taller, but he almost weigh nothing. “I know.”

“I’m not asking you to reconcile with your brother, I don’t know what’s going on inside your head—could be anything, but we have a six foot blond mass of muscles panicking because of you. You got yourself a second chance, it’s your turn to give it to your brother. And on the way there, you might wanna need some help.”

Loki just stared at him.

“You know, I spent two whole months in jail back when I was fourteen,” something flickered inside Loki’s eyes. “Rehab sucks, but at least your doing it for yourself.”

Just then, Bruce heard people shouting for his name. It was funny how for some reasons, everyone ended up coming at the same time. Talk about coincidence.

Before the others could even reach them, Bruce heard Loki whisper so low he almost didn’t heard it. “He’s not even my brother.”

And just like that, Loki was snatched away from his grasped, the latter being crushed by Thor in a bone crushing hug.

“Of course, we’re doing this now,” Loki drawled even when his face was mushed on Thor’s chest. “Last time we had a reunion you screamed at me.”

Bruce tuned them out, deciding to turn towards the group. They were all heaving breathes, even Natasha who always managed to look calm and collected… except for that time she first met Loki and Jane.

But the event was immediately cut short when they heard the telltale sounds of an upcoming car. Soon, Bruce was staring at a black SUV and a grumbling red head got out of it.

The girl stared at them.

“Are you all guys aware that it’s four fifteen in the morning?” she asked.

“To be fair, no one asked you to come here,” Loki said still in the midst of suffocating from Thor’s embrace, “We don’t know you.”

She leveled him a gaze. “I’m assuming you’re Loki,” she said. “Hence, I’m assuming you guys live in Building A.”

Everyone was looking at her, except for Natasha’s judging glare. Bruce wanted to salute this newly arrived stranger for having the ability to be unfazed by it. 

“Uh, yes, we do,” Steve finally answered scratching his nape, “And you are?” Bruce noticed his tendencies on acting like a leader, he found himself not bothered by it but was rather thinking about future dispute with Tony, something tells him Tony’s the kind of person that always plays by his own rules. 

“Oh, you can just all call me Pepper,” She replied smiling at everyone.

Bruce felt Clint’s head snapped up. “You’re Pepper?” he exclaimed.

“I’m guessing Tony already told you guys about me,” 

“More like, used your name as an expression.” Clint mumbled under his breath, but was left unheard by everyone.

Ignoring the unnecessary comment, the girl named Pepper clasped her hand and told them to enter the car, walking home this cold and early in the morning would be bad for the skin.

“Wait,” Loki said when Thor started putting him in the car, “We’re actually going to listen to a person named after a condiment?”

When everyone was finally seated, Pepper opened the door from the driver’s sit before sitting down and proceeding to grumble words under her breathe, “Four in the freaking morning,” she grouched slipping in her car keys, “Things I do for that jerk.”

“Uhh,” Steve stuttered sitting on the passenger’s sit, completely red in the face, “You don’t have to do this,” He said gesturing to everything.

Pepper turned to face him, she smiled, “You’re right, I don’t, but Tony already bombarded me with enough messages and if he started calling me I might lose my shit.” Note; she was still smiling.

“I like her,” Natasha whispered beside Bruce which made the hair at the back of his neck to stand up.

_Red heads._

“D-don’t you think ‘bombarding’ is a bit, I don’t know…” Bruce said rubbing his nape, “Exaggerated?”

With a twist, the engine roared to life, “If having thirty-three messages and counting isn’t exaggeration, then I don’t know what is.” She replied while backing up the car and swiveling a U-turn. “And besides, I’ll get new shoes out of this.”

There was a moment of silence where everyone tried to decode what Pepper just said, then Clint started snickering from his seat. 

_“I’m guessing Tony already told you guys about me,”_

* * *

Bruce stared at the building in front of them, before turning to Loki who was was avoiding to look at everyone, instead he too was staring at the building. It was a rehab center.

“Tony you rat bastard,” Clint muttered smiling.

Pepper looked at everyone. “Did I get the address wrong? I was half asleep back there.”

Loki closed his eyes and sighed. “Fix myself, huh,” he muttered, and without looking back, he headed straight for the doors, with Thor fumbling behind him. His posture was stiff, but it was a start.

For a moment there was silence.

“So,” Clint said. “Tony called you.”

Pepper clicked her tongue and nodded. “Sometimes I feel more like his secretary most of the time,” she said, but there was no anger behind it. She glanced at Clint’s ears, and recognition flashed across her face before smiling. “But I know there’s a reason behind it.”

“Are you his best friend or something?” Bruce asked, because in all honesty, he couldn’t see it happening.

“Ex,” she said, and the bewildered expressions she received made her laugh. “It’s not that weird, not all relationships ends up bad.”

Steve blinked, then blinked again, before blinking some more. “Ex… girlfriend…” he said.

They all got home with the sun peeking from the sky, everyone was exhausted and Bruce was already planning to spend the whole weekend in bed. They invited Pepper to rest, but she was more adamant to rest at her place, and mentioning something about the fact that she can’t promise to not kick Tony when she sees him. 

As soon as they entered the threshold, they immediately spotted Tony passed out on the sofa, the television still on.

Clint kicked him awake.

* * *

Bruce’s plan on spending his whole weekend in bed was immediately put in flames when Steve called everyone to stay first before they could even retreat back to their rooms.

Tony, who was woken up due to Clint’s foot, only had half of his brain function to properly sit up straight, slightly dazed, before proclaiming that he’ll make tea for everyone and coffee for Bruce. Nobody corrected him when he trudged his way towards the kitchen, instead, they all sunk down on the sofa, immediately feeling the ache on their body.

“I’m gonna need a mountain of Salonpas,” Clint announced, “And a body massage.”

“I could give you a massage,” Natasha said, Bruce didn’t mean to have both his eyebrows disappear somewhere behind his hairline, he didn’t, he really didn’t. Then Natasha gave Clint a menacing grin which made Bruce feel a wave of relief.

“Pass,” Clint replied terror-stricken.

“Hey, I volunteered making coffee so that I could skip a couple of minutes with you guys yapping about stuff,” Tony pointed out carrying a plate of mugs with coffee. It wasn’t the just the fact that Tony knew who owns which mug surprised Bruce, but also the fact that he actually knew what type of coffee the others would drink.

The realization startled him for a moment.

Leaning in front, Clint went a grab for his mug before everyone followed suit. The blond took a short sip before leaning back, “I thought you’re supposed to sleep?”

“I was,” Tony replied as if the answer can’t be more obvious. “What do you think was I doing here minutes ago?”

“You watch TV while you sleep?” The blond replied completely not buying it.

“I like the noise,” He replied drinking in his own coffee, “It’s soothing.”

Bruce leaned in and stretched a hand for his own mug, “And you call Loki a liar,” He mumbled taking sip from his tea, Bruce was momentarily surprised that Tony didn’t screw it up, you never know about Tony, he could probably finish a complicated task in minutes but fail on the easy ones. 

The deafening silence meant that everyone heard him, maybe everyone was just too tired to react.

He didn’t know what came over him, it was probably because of his sleep deprived consciousness that made his mouth move without even thinking, “He said you’re not his brother.”

Thor immediately stilled, his cup of coffee (which suspiciously looks more like milk) a few inches away from his mouth. He was silent for a moment. “Not by blood, no,” he finally answered. “He’s the son of one our family’s rival, I am not aware of the entire story, but… nonetheless, he’s still my brother.”

_Adopted._

“I assume it was one of the reasons why he had done what he did,” Thor said, his voice uncharacteristically low. “As a brother, I failed him, and I didn’t even noticed.” _I was so full of myself that I did not know what was going on._ “I am, by no means, a good person. I’ve destroyed lives, and this is my punishment. Banished from my own family.”

“I wouldn’t say banished,” Steve said. “They still pay for your college don’t they?”

Thor smiled a sad smile. “Being sent to a different country, not allowed to call or keep in touch, is as bad being banished. It’s hard to know that they are there, and yet you can not do anything about it.” He turned to look down on his feet. “I felt alone, and suddenly I knew how Loki had felt.”

Tony drained his cup and stared at Thor. “Well,” he said, his tone a little light to even work with the current situation. “Bruce killed his dad,” Bruce almost choked from his tea. “I don’t even like my folks, I’m pretty sure Legolas over here’s an orphan, but that doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. 

“You said so yourself, this is a punishment, so do something about it. You never know, this punishment could be your second chance.”

Thor looked back at Tony, his face unreadable, before smiling a more genuine one.

_…Second chance._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I am so sorry for the late update!!!
> 
> For the past month, I was nothing but a sack of potatoes doing nothing but sitting on the corner. I was feeling comfortable you know, I promised to update every month and all I can think was "I still had a whole month to update my story, it's fiiiiiiiiiine." Then one day I woke up and it's April fools already. A whole month went by with me writing nothing.
> 
> Anyway, I was dead set on using the comics for Thor's life, but then i realized it would only work if I made Thor suffer amnesia, but we already had Captain America for that 'hospital related' backstory. And so I decided to watch Thor a few days ago and used that instead. I hope you liked it!
> 
> Kudos and comments are much appreciated!


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